Back in the woods, lies our cabin retreat
Surrounded by steep hills, streams and hot springs
I hear the hoot of the owl perched high in the spruce
The howl of the wolf, calling out to her mate
Nature is signaling, the moon can't be viewed
Thick clouds are blowing, we'll soon be subdued
Squirrels are seen scurrying, gathering nuts
A feeling of hurry, a snow storm this night
Peer out the window, a magical sight
Nature is shining, draped in pure white
The fire is roaring, I'm holding you tight
The roads are all closed, we're stuck here tonight
A kiss on your cheek, a sip of red wine
No finer feeling, than you and me here
Put down my wine, gaze deep in your soft eyes
You're my spirit, my wisdom, my strength, my skies
My beauty, my vision, my meaning, my heart
Hold me tighter sweet one, let's never depart

Twin, silver cathedral bells, sway and chime.
As every note peals out, clear and sublime.
No winds blow through the sky, this silent night.
The peaceful heavens, filled with a celestial light.
Arm in arm, down the icy lane we do walk.
Heart to heart, our souls they seem to talk.
A pair of happy cardinals, one red, one gold.
Go bobbing through the snow, so white, so cold.
Along the hillside, stands rows of frosted pine.
The fields, blanketed in diamonds, a vision divine.
Couples, young and old, seated in horse-drawn sleighs.
Making new memories, and reminiscing their by-gone days.
Nestled so close together, like two turtledoves.
All bundled up, with warm scarves and gloves.
Amongst white winter lands, we two do wander.
While our light hearts, are growing ever fonder.
Written for Isaiah Zerbst's contest - "Let It Snow-12 Paintings of Winter"
This poem was inspired by the painting-"Christmas Day" by John Ritchie

Follow me and walk down an avenue of Firs
To my Log Cabin you'll view, I'm sure you'll concur
Overlooking Loch Ness, look in the fields you'll see
A herd of beautiful Reindeer roaming so free
But it's when you look around, my world glistens
It started by walking to here, footsteps to listen
Crunching, crunching, crunching, white virgin snow
Where here it's normally dark, now it's all aglow
As we turn the corner many colours in radiate
Glistening amidst the white kaleidoscopic drape
Then to the cabin we view, lanterns of every colour
Hanging in joyful sway never outdoing each other
As we draw nearer through the arched window I see
So beautiful in adorn, a most lovely Christmas Tree
Through the door we enter, Sleigh Bells in the Snow
It's at this time of year, so many many smiles show
.

Many are the Maples that encircle my home, my nest, my dwelling abode
And in the dark of night they tap on my frosty windows, crying
Past their deathly stance, a wintry scene
Looking through their tangled limbs snow is falling, endlessly
Everything in my world is icy white, sky and earth mingling
Soon, I whisper to them, you will be wearing your emerald gowns
Creaking and groaning they mumble in their frozen rest
Reaching out gnarled fingers to me
Yes, my dears, soon, so soon you will stand in resplendence
Ice and snow will be replaced with fringes of delicate, filigree green
Now rest, now sleep Maples sweet
Gather your memories of Spring, Summer and Fall close and dream
Acrostic Personification
February 3, 2012

~
Watching the snow fall silently,
upon streets that clamor unrest,
my eyes behold how gallantly,
nature is at its very best.
I look about me everywhere,
watching the snow fall silently,
and marvel how nature so pure,
can steal my heart so reverently.
While traffic passes hurriedly,
and the shoppers in a frantic state,
watching the snow fall silently,
I sense the peace and slow my gait.
While others miss what I adore,
the joy, this gift, that comes for free.
Rushing by, they find no time for
watching the snow fall silently.
~

Virgin snow sparkles in the darkest hour
as stardust dances with celestial power.
Silently it rains upon mother earth
giving witness to such an idyllic birth.
A fawn and doe now break the glaze
like tiny spoons upon crème brulees.
Below Polaris they prance and snort,
for they seem to know the time is short.
For such a night is a rare event,
as blue light above is heaven sent.
Wondrous luminescent tranquility
trumps any earthly poet’s ability.
Now the first rays pierce the frigid night
and Orion’s bow soon fades to light.
White carpet dulls now without the luster
of a nocturnal painter, the starlight duster.
James Nichols 12/29/12

~*~
Seven pigeons, sitting in the snow
Upon a street sign, trembling
And the snow is falling
As if, on cue they fly on snowy wings
Circling the city buildings
Till a safe ledge is found
Beautiful, they smooth their heavy feathers
Sitting quiet in the cold
As snowflakes drift below
I wish, my own weary heart could fly
And as winter blows and roars
I could but fold my wings
O, could I fly, like seven pigeons
And close my eyes to winter
And the snow is falling
~*~
February 16, 2013
Kimo x 5

What do you think of when you see the rain?
I see tears from heaven, because of the pain.
Some see it different , and im sure you do too,
You think its tears of joy, and a start of anew.
What do you think of when you see snow falling?
I think its the time of year ,that friends will be calling.
For christmas is not so very far away,
When you see snow falling ,and its there to stay.
Spring is always so nice to see here,
It brings out the animals , like squirls and deer.
Storms i dont like to see or hear,
The thunder is so loud, it can bust your ear.
When i see the sun , so high in the sky,
It makes me want to jump for joy.

The warmth of me curls knees to chin hiding from the frosty chill.
My eyes peek out in dawning light to see the snow piled windowsill.
The traffic sounds have been toned down, the once blue sky's over glazed,
all of life has been dampened down, as flakes fall upon the earthly stage.
One can hear the tick of clock, the hum of the furnace heating
without the wind, the snow simply falls, bringing Winter's first greetings.
So like the eiderdown it drifts, each hillock seems a baffle fluffed,
each brush once green a pillow seems, each boulder bears a comfy tuft.
Oh, to stay here all of day, watch the patterned snowflakes fall
but, I must harken to the day and rise up to life's daily call.
Poet: Debbie Guzzi
Date: 11/16/2012
Contest:White Blanket

Circ’ling down in brilliant whiteness,
Sett’ling here upon the ground;
Blowing now about the bushes,
Making patterns straight and round.
Perfect beauty, perfect whiteness
Now assails my clouded sight;
Spread unbroken o’er the mountains,
Sparkling brightly in the light.
Microscopic detailed order;
No two flakes were e’re the same:
All designed in sep’rate order;
Who this wondrous tho’t can frame?
Who decreed this awesome order,
Who these details tho’t and planned?
Who made clouds to grace the heavens,
Spread the snowflakes with His hand?
Jesus Christ and God the Father,
And the Spirit, three in one,
Planned and formed, decreed and ordered,
Till this blessed deed was done.

Summer sunshine in her hair
The Autumn moon in her eyes
Winter’s promise buried there
Hints of Spring therein lies
The Autumn moon in her eyes
Winter’s snow upon her skin
The seeds of Spring wait to rise
To field the Summer once again
Winter’s snow upon her skin
Spring flowers to grace her face
Summer’s vow to come again
Until Autumn takes its place
Spring flowers to grace her face
Summer’s sunshine in her hair
Autumn hints leave bare a trace
That Winter’s cold will follow there

Standing out in a field alone, a little white flower named Daisy longed for someone to share her world.
One day a blue flower named Bachelor Button entered her world they became friends.
She knew by his name that he was not the propagating kind, but that didn’t stop their relationship she called him BB short for best bud.
The seasons of Spring & Summer they enjoyed the sun, laughed in the rain and held on fast in the Fall.
Winter came it was long and hard they were both covered in a blanket of snow, not knowing whether they would ever see each other again or even survive .The snow fell then came the ice, this went on for months.
The Sun shone brightly the first day of spring. A few days later warmth of the sun melted the snow, Daisy popped up .
I’ve been waiting days for you to come out, said BB, they both chanted hooray!
The snow was completely gone in a few days, the birds started building their nests , bugs were crawling around ,butterflies began to visit the two flowers. I wish there were more of us Daisy said, to BB.
They laughed as the sun and wind blew through their leaves. Then it started the sun and rain took turns until one morning the air & field was filled with the smell of flowers.
Daisy and BB looked at each other and asked what kind of flowers are these ? they’re not white like daisies they’re not blue like bachelor buttons. They did not know the birds and bugs carried the seeds from the two of them and the caterpillars buried them under the soil.
The seeds from the new flowers were then carried by the winds many miles away, they landed in fertilized gardens and flourished, although they faced danger everyday.
as they were called WEEDS ..
The Gardener pulls weeds out of the garden so they don’t choke the flowers, which cost a lot of money and require lots of maintenance.
However there was a Gardener who saw her friends spending hours weeding their garden , that they didn’t have enough time to admire and enjoy the labors of their love
So she set out to give a home to all the weeds ,she provided a place where they could fit in and multiply, they required no maintenance, rain provides their water .
The best part of all is their beauty is in the eye of the beholder.
Ask my granddaughter-- What are those flowers in the garden ?
She will answer "WILDFLOWERS " their parents were Daisy and BB

The earth slips into a deep sleep
all beneath its surface now dormant
sleepy animals curled up in their dens
soon to fall into the sleep of hibernation
all now slowed down awaiting the snows
trees now denude of their canopy of leaves
Jack Frost comes creeping with icy fingers
covering everything in stark bright white
hoar frost, branches sparkling with icicles
softly, come the first snows just a sprinkle
a promise of more, laden sullen skies above
in the morning, a world of brilliant white
Fresh and crisp unmarked by human tracks
just the odd three toed marks of birds
deer trails pass through so distinct
the flash of colour from Red Robin's beast
drifts of snow, some very deep lie in wait
for unwary travelers tempting with beauty
Slowly, oh so slowly the thaw arrives
everywhere a-run with water trickling
now appears the odd patch of faded green
Winter releases her hold with reluctance
fighting to the end, then slips away
leaving Spring to awaken the land with warmth
Now the birds are busy, gathering the twigs
also moss and feathers with some sheep's wool
busily building nests all shapes and sizes
the males preening and showing off to hens
fighting for the rights of lady and territory
the winner, the one who's chicks will be born
Leaves unfurling on the trees reaching out
sun bathed they quickly grow and bush up
to give shelter to birds and tender plants
bulbs now pushing up snowdrops appearing
followed by gay crocus and waving daffodil
finally come the roses, tulips and lupines
All now a splash with colour gleaming in the sun
Summer has arrived with her hot sultry heat
languidly the breezes flow over the landscape
an earth that is now ablaze with vibrant greens
emerald vieing with turquoise, lime and pea green
scarlet beside pink and red, a vision of beauty
pure white of daisies and yellow petals of roses
Too soon, far too soon slowly the nights lengthen
a chill is felt in the air as daylight fades away
leaves start to turn to various shades of brown
then giving up their grip are carried by the wind
plump apples fill the orchards they taste so sweet
corn and other crops are now ready for the harvest
Bare trees now greet us as the days shorten quickly
Autumn drifts gently in, time to light the log fires
to tuck one's self up with a book and mug of cocoa
ponder on the year gone by, the highs and the lows
the cycle of seasons complete for yet another year
life reaffirmed and ready to face whatever is ahead
written 11/26/2013 by Shadow Hamilton
contest Impress me sponsor Giorgio
I went with epic motif

Outside the snow is falling
The children are sleighing
Sometimes they start snowballing
Outside the snow is falling
“Dinner is served”, their Mom is calling
The children don’t hear what she’s saying
Outside the snow is falling
The children are sleighing!

Take a walk towards an autumn day,
stray past summers end into a fallen
red yellow and orange blend. Although
it seems we are heading into seasons
of wither, the beauty of every season is
at work. Open up let Mother nature in,
she can do truly amazing things. Realise
even winters chill can be special and
brilliant. Like softly falling snowflakes
dusting over the whole place, far and near
what a truly wonderful time of year. A
magnificent pure white landscape has
appeared.
appeared.
what a truly wonderful time of year. A
magnificent pure white landscape has
appeared.
what a truly wonderful time of year. A
magnificent pure white landscape has
appeared.
what a truly wonderful time of year. A
magnificent pure white landscape has
appeared.

What could I really know of the breaks
in the land
huge canyons bleeding red cut by the wind
with the snow swirling around our tires
barns upright
and fallen to a tumble like icebergs
windshield riming over with a crust of ice
we scrape madly inside
trying to keep cold out
speed slowing
slowing to a crawl
always on the lookout
outside line appearing and gone,
no worries about
cattle led inside to safety to be watered and fed
but what of us?
Will we be trapped clutching a candle
wanting a chocolate bar,
waiting for a tractor?
and all the flat seeming land seems to have ditches
and roof pitches and rushing trees, and a swirl
of slumbering snow
to lumber down in drifts and piles
no fire would ever warm us
temperature dropping
dropping
until finally we see it shining in the dark
a lantern at a farm
a fleet of snow mobiles to greet us
scurry is off
before our ears turn blue,
would they fall off?
Luckily, not tonight, not in this blizzard,
we have home.

~
Winter winds and snowflakes drifting
Ice bound trees all glittering
No noise except the white falling stars
Tiny snow birds are twittering in delight
Everything is white and pure and serene
Round the fireplace we gather warm and cozy
Soft and quiet the fluttering snow comes down
Bright, delicate snow floating
Landing silently are the perfect spheres
All my world is now dazzling
No noise except the dancing snow descending
Keeping warm by the fireplace with tea
Everything is blanketed white
The forest, the garden and even the house
~
Written by Constance La France
November 19, 2012
For the Winter's Blanket Contest
Of Gail Angel Doyle

Standing on top
The mountain below
I feel it beckon
A world of snow.
It stretches below me
It pulls at my heart
I can't live without it
Yet we're worlds apart.
Its unending beauty
A place so serene
I want to flow to it
Yet it is a dream.
A dream that I live in
A dream - yet its real
It's part of my make up
It's something I feel.
The calm of the wild
The expanse of just space
The pleasure of feeling
Cold wind in my face.
The knowing I own it
This wide untouched land
And then not to have it
I know I can't stand.
And so I go back to
This place of my dreams
If only in pictures
I am there - so it seems.

I'm standing on
the edge of a cliff
you called it a mountain
I call it a way to live
I'll be riding down
Those epic slopes
watch me shred it
you can barely cope
and I'm seeing through
this birds eye view
like a hawk
I swooped down
and grabbed a hold of you
I'll be flying down
these mystic hills
but won't be long
before I take a spill
The mountain called to me
in my mind and in my dreams
I just got to go
that ancient stone of life
it will cure all your strife
don't ya know?

In winter, rails of the fence are heavy
Snow covers them, just as white as can be
Beauty lands in the landscape, on the trees
It’s white too, lovely, pretty as you please
Snow reflects all colors making it white
Leaving light that is courageously bright
Each snowflake is different, quite unique
Leaving the air brilliant, full of mystique
A stream, still moving along, has some ice
Very cold and frigid, had to look twice
Air has quite a bite to it, a crisp feel
The land is all frozen, the cold is real
Whole scene brings about natural appeal
Snow is like a solid wonderland zeal

Winter is the last and the coolest season of the year
Where people love to play with snow everywhere
Wearing jackets, mittens, socks, and boots
Walking on winter’s blanket on the roads
Love to see the snowflakes cascading from the sky
Like tiny bits of diamond that caress my face so dry
Feels good to watch the snow and its beauty
Showing elegance that I close my eyes peacefully
Relax, feel the world full of whiteness on the ground
Breathtaking scenery that happiness I finally found
November 18, 2012
For SKAT's "Rhyming Poem" Contest
5th Place Winner

It's been four years since I've seen so much as an insignificant mountain creek. Been overburdened with comfort, now frantic with nature withdrawals, having to settle for photos found on Google Images: emerald pine trees, blue jays on limbs, moonlight cutting through forests, lakes the color of Windex-ed glass. It's much like drinking water that's been doused with Crystal Light... you may feel yourself becoming hydrated, when it reality it's only satiating your thirst temporarily. So you can imagine my joy when my best friend called me up to break the news.
"Monica, Brandon, Joel and I are gonna go backpacking. Care to join?"
the finality
of a cell hitting the floor -
shoe tying
Like a bunch of sardines packed in a can on wheels, we headed out to beautiful Cascade: the place where the Idahoan mountains aren't just paintings from afar, but close enough to taste. We weave our way through the spider-like dirt trails, as we each take turns changing songs on Joel's iPod. It's my go and I'm searching through the John Denver list, mourning the fact that there's over a hundred songs by him, and not one of them is Colorado Rocky Mountain High (the one song I could say fit my feelings to a tee). The menagerie of everyone's taste in music made for an interesting trip no doubt - even if Jonathan picked the worst possible jams simply for annoyances sake.
My first peculiar observation:
Humans have been making calendars for thousands of years (the first being more akin to cave drawings and stone tablets than paper). But as long as all that has been going on, the mountains don't care that August is expected to be sultry as November is expected to be chilly. Cause June took her first baby steps with a stubborn December mindset - a meandering way to say it was cold enough to freeze your nads off. The mounds of five feet snow made it all the more comical the fact I was wearing plaid shorts. Mother Nature wasn't going to be kind, I could tell.
like turtles
struggling to stand -
our packs full of crockery
It was breezy at first. We would practically glide down the mountain side, using our backpacks as a counter balance. The snowy counterpart to kangaroos, we were. The glistening flakes were thick enough to snowboard down - granted I never touched a snowboard, let alone ridden one. But after seeing this it gives me ideas...
Monica smiled for the camera, as I fumbled for my iPhone, a smile that didn't even require the forcible Say Cheese! nonsense. It wasn't waiting for the camera flash, but the other way around. Now you might be calling that rather pathetic, but I brought my iPhone along simply for the function of capturing memories. Angry Birds just don't compare to the real ones, sweet with lilting songs.
My second peculiar observation:
Google Images is an absolute horrid plagiarist; some beauty just can't be encapsulated despite all our advances in high-def technology.
The downward slope finally leveled out a bit, if only for a few minutes. Truth be told the path never stopped declining - some routes were simply more apparent than others. Our group of five walked single file through the trees, all basing our faith that Joel (a person who has been to the site once when the trail WASN'T covered in snow) would lead us in the right direction. And here's another interesting fact; this was no official trail, but a hike through the purest of adventures, unpredictable and unreliable.
crushing pine needles
with un-gloved fingers -
roaring rivers beneath the snow
The first time my whole leg collapsed into the fragile surface of the snow made me realize just how far above the dirt I was walking. I'd ask Brandon for assistance with a beet red blush on my cheeks - I blamed it on my fair skin falling victim to the sunny day. From then out I tiptoed with exaggerated caution, my heavy pack helping me just as much as it was hindering me. For even a foot drop had to be taken with a grain of salt. Everyone had to adjust to the added weight (except for Monica, with her light load of a sleeping bag, nothing else). I'd very ungracefully glide through twigs and pesky low branches, oblivious of my bare legs. In all honesty the cold didn't get to me, just the scratches of neighboring trees is where my concerns lied. At anytime I could have stopped the whole gang, beaming, "Wait a spell and let me put on some pants for crying out loud". Course that never happened, my clothes were in the bottom of my pack, and I was no where near desperate enough for monkeying around with that sorry mess.
slick slates
slanting down the cliff edge -
helping hands
Joel, with his redneck stubble, beams up at me, "Every hiking trip needs a little bit of adventure, don't rush it by any means!". That's the last thing on my mind - the first is whether or not that rock I'm about to put my weight on is as stable as she looks. It's a very roundabout route, and as questionable as it is, it's safer by a long shot than the first path we took - call it a 103 degree wall.
NOTE: Still working on writing out the rest of my trip to Cascade. It was my first backpacking trip and even though we only stayed one night, the trip is full of wonderful memories.

Virgin snow forms a blanket of shimmery white.
Pine tree boughs are weighted down this night.
Not a creature stirred.
Not a sound heard.
A feeling as If I were standing within a snow globe.
A magical story to unfold.
Silvery snow falling upon my face,
Sticking to my eyelashes, creating white lace.
Crystal tear drops forming upon my cheeks,
Giving me a look of mystique.
Street lights disperses snowflakes in a whimsical dance.
Making my nighttime surroundings a fairytale-like sense.
As if a child has shaken the snow globe to see,
Falling snow crystals shimmering silvery white onto me.
Tiny miracles of light,
Fluttering, dancing earthward creating a magical sight.
By Connie Gildersleeve

The snow silently cloaked the land
falling slowly but insistently
creating large drifts against the walls
bigger and bigger get the flakes
A world of white where ever you look
gnashed here and there by trees
sticking up their bare branches
which are now also snow laden
Sheep struggle through the drifts
helped by the shepherd and dogs
fast as a flash the collies mark
until the shepherd digs them out
Still relentlessly the snow falls
roads and trails disappear from sight
I look out over the white landscape
and feel as if I am in the clouds

Time forever going forward into the snow
time wasted
seconds, hours spun out of fingertips
forever like snow into the dark
light falling on snow
dancing, glowing for one miraculous second
then drops away into the darkness behind
and see beautifull blooming things
flowers spinninglike the snowflakes
soaring totally free
stars streaking through the night
seconds, minutes, days
buoyed up in a bright place
the only light in a dark world
looks like a falling star
time and space blast away
like a universe forever expanding forward
leaving only darkness
darkness and the snow
This is found poetry from words I Chose out of the book Before I Fall by Lauren Oliver

As I’m pushed away by summer’s breeze
Flakes of white fall upon my brow
I wish for the earth beneath to freeze
To shield me from how days are now
These months have been so long and cruel
I’m ever so blind while the sun reigns
Therefore, I’ll dream of winter’s cool
To take away my summer pains

Snow of delight or snow of fright?
Bringing forth a world of wintry white.
Children sled and play no matter it night or day.
In its pleasures they do delight.
Spreading limbs wind up and down.
An angel’s wings flying without a sound.
Rolling giant balls of powder.
The children laugh a little louder.
Even though, they sometimes flounder.
Snow of delight for them.
Snow of fright for some men.
As they shovel the snow again and again.
Canine friends tunnel their way.
A lost one looking for the light of day.
Wishing for a warmer place to play.
Bending the branches of my favorite evergreen.
How far can they stand to lean?
Will it be nice or mean to my evergreen?
How might your scene unfold?
Did it make you shiver in the cold?
Is it a delight or fright to behold?
Richard J. Long (February, 2010)
Inspired by Snow apocalypse

~Snowy Winter Days~
(Trine)
In winter there's a lot of snow
In many places is falling I know
It is so cold right now outside
And snow continues to gather aside
Most folks have difficulty getting everywhere
There's too much snow,more than most foks can bear
Snow is falling steadily hard and slow
It is only growing very high and wide
Folks want snow to stop,for it they don't care.
Dorian Petersen Potter
aka ladydp2000
copyright@2015
January,18,2015

Shake it, shake it!
Feel the rhythm, don't quit ;
Enjoy a warm coconut breeze,
There is no way you can freeze;
Visualize the ocean waves
You can have what you crave;
Dance all day, dance all night
Keep your eyes shut tight;
No no it's not gonna snow,
We melt it with our inner glow

Written February 24, 2012
One too many times
Our love has been unkind
To the rigors and chills of the snow
The streets they meet
Intersecting the heat
But the cold will blow without heed
To rekindle the flame
Must sound quite insane
But it's all I have left in this world
Yet to feed from the hand
Of another's demands
Could lead to the start of the fall
Ride the wind
Wherever it goes
Don't ask it questions
You don't want to know
The wind will carry you home

Nasty old winter is getting me down
I'm looking for summer all over town
I lift up a blanket of snow off the ground
Sadly there is no green grass to be found
My very next stop I'll go down to the beach
With waves and sand summer may be in reach
The lake is solid like a piece of glass
No sign of summer I'm freezing my ass
Summer summer reveal yourself to me
Sun warm my face place leaves on a tree
Hey wait a minute is that a red Rose?
I pick it up, place it under my nose
I'm so sad to say, the rose isn't real
You can imagine how sad I now feel
My search is over I know when I'm licked
As I head home I'm feeling real ticked
I see a young woman walking my way
Wearing a bikini on this cold day
A glimpse of summer my heart starts to race
I'm confused, yet there's a smile on my face
Searching for Summer contest
By Richard Lamoureux
March 14, 2013

Your hands cold as death
Your bite killing like snake’s venom
Your breath leaving trees bereft
Of leaves, stripped, lonesome
Birds migrating to warmer land
Grizzly bears for hibernating send
To earth a carpet of snow lend
Chestnuts in the lap of fire spend
Gloved hands holding golden cognac in goblets
Men & women dressed in warm leather jackets
Wines, roasted almonds, soups and turkey breasts
Enjoy the gift of comfort and rests
On the other side of this scenario
People in numbers and not few
That suffer profusely because of you
Their tattered clothes are no shield
Of your ruthless biting teeth
Ill nourished, frail and ailing lots
Not haves but have nots
Your victims, your prey, weak and forlorn
Cry out ‘winter be gone’, ‘winter be gone’
(Judged Winner on Feb. 2, 2013 in the Winter be Gone Contest of Francine Roberts)

A white blanket of
fluffy snow covers
all the land; it glitters
as we pass.
As we walk on it crunches
beneath our feet, like sweet
sherbet in our mouth.
Icicles as long as spears
glimmer in the winter sun.
Every window is covered in
snow and mist, creating a
sense of cold.
Every garden is the same:
white and filled with snowmen
created by the humour of children.
As the weeks pass, the sweet
blanket of snow begins to melt
creating pock-marked surroundings.
Many gardens appear barren without
the once luscious bloom of colour,
still winter begins to pass and
nature awakens; snow-drops
appear in every garden, like
a message of welcome.
Slowly the gardens begin to
bloom of colour and the
snow-drop disappears
once more.

Oh, tragic feather what is thy tragedy
No longer freedom gay or certian loft
How is this thy new translation
From a majesty, unto a wing thou hath mighty dropped
Were thou thus, shunned, cast away
Or merely, cut out or off
As limb from downward spiral angel
Perhaps, a troubled finch or insanity in wayward hawk
Lie, if thou must, be it amidst a deafening silence, lonesome soft
But, I plead, please tell me fallen feather, what hath befallen thee
Thy tuft to ne’er evermore touch again
What life should be, warmth of the summer's breeze
Sleep, sleep now 'neath the alley's gutter greys
Catching Weeping Willows damning drops
Adrift as the drowning lily dying
In seas of the myriad scattered rots
An accomplice I shall say, within a winter's willing white
And alas, buried ordinary in this doth the corpse delight
Far beneath the crowds held at bay and forever lost
Now thou hath become the naked grove of wicker and then...
the more of naked souless crops

Wind howling forlorn
thundering through the tree tops
branches crashing down
Snow swirling, whirling
coating all in pristine white
like diamonds glinting
Hear the lonely shrieks
as seagulls twist and hover
over the fishing boats
written 08/12/2013

Frigid is the night
Slippery are the small snowdrops
Floating on soft bed of air
White so beautiful
The snowflakes fall to the ground
Bringing specks of ice around
Wonderful pleasure
When seeing this gorgeous sight
Radiance of delight sparks
When ground is covered
White winter landscape presents
Proudly the snow loves the cold
Slowly snow descends
Topping everything around
Leaving a white trace of snow
Beautiful snow flakes
Blending in with each other
A blanket of pure white lace

the melting snow sits
on the remnants of green lawn --
the smell of smoke
Andrea D. Suggested the following changes
the snow melts
on the remnant of green lawn --
the smell of smoke
Chris A. Suggests some of the articles be removed
snow melts
on remnants of green lawn --
the smell of smoke
Rueben O. has made a valid comment too regarding the word remnant.
Jack Kerouac once said that haiku should be as simple as porridge and
the word remnant is NOT..it is a word best used in free verse.
As to whether it's Spring or early Winter I think the smell of smoke
shows nicely that folks have lit their fireplaces BUT I'm open to suggestion.
the snow melts
above patches of green grass --
chimney smoke
Rueben now we have come to the end of my desire to tinker ;)
Line 3 as it stands was MY Ahaa moment seeing how the cold and the heat
both occur in beauty simultaneously BUT my AhhhHA! may be your [so what]
that's fine..and it is GOOD to point out the fragmented line is tthe hardest to excell
in.it is the line where without [telling] by [showing] the poet tries to
communicate how they felt in awe....
*This is how folks work on a haiku :)

The magnificent river
coming down the mountainside
spreading out in its majesty
as it moves towards the ocean
then rising up to the cloud
from where it condenses
on the mountain
as snow or rain
that ends up in the river
repeating the glorious cycle
- the essence of nature

Clouds garland snow capped mountain peak
Icy snow butterflies melt kisses upon my nose
Puffs of warm, moist breath balloons billow out before me,
quickly chilling, disappearing before my eyes
Crunching snow compacts beneath booted feet
Prints set deep, little more than momentary reminder
of where you have stepped before
Crisp white blanket glints
almost winking it’s Christmas card welcome
as it’s vast white carpet spreads before you beckoning
All of nature along with everything manmade becomes anew
Nothing seems out of place
A bird lands on branch of tree causing cascade of padded canopy
New mound takes position with little noticed effect on perfect landscape
Children laugh and run as they hurl packed balls at one another
Dashing, darting, ducking and returning rogue ammunition
to offending hand and screams of pleasure
Slipping, falling they tumble over repeatedly
Waving arms and legs, when finally still to create snow angels
Then, standing up clothed as abominable snowman
Giving rise to fresh ideas as new creation begins with rolling snow
Bigger and bigger they chase and push, packing tight as they go
Another ball a little smaller to place on top of first for head
Then off they scatter in all directions looking to clothe their model
Returning with woollen hat scarf
carrot and stones to place as eyes nose and mouth with button features
Admiring they know their masterpiece shall be short-lived
For mother nature’s hand will chance to create another slushy muddy puddle

It was official. There would be no school today due to heavy snow. We heard it on the radio, during the early morning show, while Mom was preparing our breakfast. Mom sighed and dropped her head when it was announced while we danced with jubilation around the kitchen table shouting “No school today. We can play all day!!” Little did we know this excitement would be short-lived.
nose-prints frozen
on a windowpane---
snowflakes dance
A hearty breakfast was followed by watching some cartoons. The rest of the morning was spent playing in our rooms. The weather outside deteriorated into the afternoon as our morning’s jubilant joy was soon depleted. Our longing to play outside was denied us and we found ourselves quickly bored. A day out or school was not meant to be stuck inside looking out at the falling snow…or so we deemed.

Braised by the sparkle of snow on the ground.
Drawn by a tapered moon.
Chilled by the air you rise to hound
then startled by the crumpled tune.
Mist floating heavy with sweat on the banks.
Damp to the open mouth.
Ice crusting over to give it's thanks
with winds giving way to the south.
Black oily skies in overcast clouds
dampening the moonlight to dim.
Crescendos of light forming covenant shrouds
with joy giving way to a hymn.
White crested branches of snow covered trees.
Praying for flakes that still fall.
Hoping there's still, some in the breeze
who'll make it to ground in a squall.
Spells in the wind are telling their stories.
Hoping you'll feel Christmas Magic.
For those who will listen to all their glories,
or wouldn't; would that be tragic!

Winter White
I love the white of winter
As the snow lies on the trees
So clean and neat the landscape
But so cold the breeze.
Nothing’s ever perfect
I appreciate what’s best
It’s pretty when the snow falls
Don’t think about the rest.
I quickly grab my camera
To capture all I see
When come the snows of winter
I cannot let it be.
The white snow of winter
Covering all the ground
As far as I can see
That snow is all around.
I see patterns in the tire tracks
And ice upon the lake
What a pretty picture
All these things will make.
Children making snowballs
Throw them near and far
Looks like fun they’re having
Not at all bizarre.
Heavy coats they’re wearing
Just to keep them warm
Temperature is really down
After that big storm.
Yes, I love the white of winter
But can do without the cold.

Snow and The Pine Tree
Snowy white pine tree
beneath the palest blue sky
firmly stands waiting
for the sun to shine
as he softly kiss the snow
before letting go
time to part has come
thawing has arrived for the snow
but her touch lingers
her memory lives
in the heart of the pine tree
winter world of love
sweet and gentle snow
slowly melts under the sun
her fingers slipping
its time for the spring
to dance with the pine tree
till she comes again

Winter though harsh and frigid holds a certain beauty
Ice frozen fingers grasp hold of my soul
Nothing is more exquisite than pristine snow falling
Today graceful, fragile snowflakes are drifting
Everything is white, fresh, pure and flawless
Rivers are ice covered, dense and firm
Rhapsody is the song of the winter birds
Hopping on bare branches to sing
All is still and surreal in my snowy world
Perhaps, I will go for a walk . . .
Something is calling deeply to my very soul
Outside is God's perfection it says
Deep under the snow life is waiting to renew
Yet, this frozen world holds a certain beauty for me
Acrostic
December 14, 2012

Glistening Silver
Glistening silver on water’s edge like thousands of diamonds for my hair -
Snow covered mountains hide summer flowers of purple, pink and gold
while black bear and deer search for left over apples from October’s harvest.
Ellijay is crisp and cleaned to perfection by nature’s wind and cold -
The cows hide inside the old, red barn up the hill.
Hickory trees barren of fruit, yet a lone woodpecker flits back and forth looking -
searching for substance from the thick bark only it can penetrate.
My prayer for snow covered mountains has been answered.
Seventeen years of Florida sun has scorched my throat and mind.
I wanted to see New York snow in North West Georgia -
One full Sunday of snow falling for my eyes to fill
in the glorious beauty of winter’s wonder.

In the yard across the way there stands a young delightful maple tree.
Oh in the hot summer......when the hot breeze blows, I watch it as it sway it's green whipfull
leaves, blowing with the breeze to an ultimate degree.
If the spring winds are harsh then it bends it's limbs limberly over toward the ground.
When the winds are mild it just waves it's branches to me cheerfully.
As if it's waving to say. "The weather is fair today."
The ground around it, uprooted, uneaven and even rather bumpy and clumpy.
The condeming of the burnt house that near it once stood, as it left its broad scars upon the
scortched land.
It now leans a bit away from where the house once stood, as it seemed to cry when that
house burt that day some years ago, but it lingers growing still strong and tall today.
It has not yet lost it's leaves, even with the strongest evil breeze this year.
It still grasps it's leaves tight to it's branches
For it is now February and still holds its many crisp brown leaves.
Why have they not fallen off, as all the other trees?
It is much stronger and laughs at the winter saying." You are not harsh enough for me."
The snow rests on its branches today as the cold winds blow. It seems so odd to see a tree
with leaves covered in snow.
But the white blanket of snow rests snuggly upon the leaves, as it does to its strong
branches.
This tree, it is my nearby friend when I am alone, as I gaze over the lawn at it from my
window.
Yes, it even in the strongest cold breeze, sometimes waves at me..... but still now nare a
leaf has fallen to the ground from its many limbs.
It seems to me so strange and odd the leaves have not yet fallen.
Even in that, as a close friend would, gives me challenge to wander, why?
Linda Terrell
February 15, 2010
This is a fiction story but I do have this unusual tree in my neighbors yard.
It holds tightly to it's own dry brown crisp leaves still in the dead of winter.

The old draught horse with weary hooves will slog
through wet snow pulling hard and breathing fog
and he glides still near farms and fields where we
dream warm of home and fireside's reverie
The motion lulls--my anxious thoughts depart.
We wander, but we know the way by heart
For I was caught by night, but moonlight shines
o'er hoarfrost-painted flowers on the pines
It's nearly silent, daylight's din is gone
save padding fox feet, snow break, night bird’s song
Far down the path I know where you will wait
with arms outstretched to draw me through the gate

Ice is the strangest substance
upon this earth then yet it
is seen as insignificant by
many.
It forms from water-droplets
within clouds, flowing rivers
and even in oceans where energy
is forever in motion.
It floats when it should sink;
density is transformed from heavy
to light even though the chemistry
remains unchanged.
It falls ever so gracefully in the
form of snow then yet wind transforms
it into a violent blizzard.
Every snowflake differs but its
crystallization is aided by
particles in the air, either natural
or man-made; it is said thunder
is created whenever they bombard
one another creating bursts of energy
transforming a cloud into a bubble of light.
Mountains become its home where it
fills crevices that adorn jagged peaks.
It twists and turns creating a deep
bowl-like hollow; a cirque is thus
created.
Seasons go by and snow continues to
fall surviving the short summer
thus the snow transforms to firn and
néve as pressure increases compacting
past layers of fallen snow.
Time passes slowly; the snow has now
become ice.
The mountain is no longer its home
for the cirque has been breached –
a glacier has formed.
The power of gravity exerts itself
onto the river of ice making it flow
downstream.
The steep mountain-sides and once
v-shaped valleys become victims of
the erosive power of the glacier bed;
picking up rocks and boulders of
unimaginable size transforming it
into sandpaper.
As time goes on the mountain scenery
changes ever so slowly as the glacier
retreats back into the womb of its
creation.
The valleys become u-shaped, rivers
and lakes dominate the scree covered
land where plant-life invades the
now bare soil; and layers of rock
exposed displaying the elements
of time.
The power of ice may be hidden but
its creations are all round us,
beautiful and enchanting.

Crystalline white branches from a subzero snow.
Takes the place of beauty where leaves are suppose to grow.
A forest of white sparkle delight,
frosted sugaring of coldness bites,
rainbow flakes flutter in the crisp moist air,
A shimmering spectacle;
for only my eyes to bare.

If only your blanket did not extend to my drive way
It was but an hour ago, I removed the thin sheet you provided
Now I must go out again
Why do I curse you?
You spread before me like a miracle
all things purified
You provide a translucent blanket of white
children know your beauty
why do I curse you?
I choose to stay in my insulated castle
looking at artificialy created flames
drinking my instant coffee
Still you call to me
grab that shovel
build a fort, reclaim your youth
be the dad you wished for
A hockey wrink awaits me outside my front door
no skates required
I Join in the laughter
shake the snow from my furrowed brow
Toss handfulls of fluffy snow from the ground
I see my smile on their faces
I get under the Blanket
How can something so cold warm me so?

It was close to Christmas time and late afternoon when our plane arrived in Nashville. My father-in-law, who had been waiting, greeted us with hugs, then shepherded us all out to his van. Usually we’d make it to their place in Cadiz within 2 hours. But on our way there, we noticed cars had slowed.
Little did we know, ahead of us the weather had grown quite foul. Coming up on Clarksville, Dad turned on the wipers, for flecks of falling snow had turned to sleet.
Brooding now, we focused nervously on each detail of the trip; on every sliding motion that was made, on every bump and every straggler we saw that had slid off the road. Meanwhile, ever conscious of the time, I was calculating how much longer it would take to reach our destination as we crawled along at 25 mph!
We made a restroom stop at a McDonald’s. It happened to be closing quite early at that exact moment we pulled in (violent snow storms were rare in Kentucky, and only fools would venture out this night to get a burger!) Against raw wind, eager to escape its nip, we carefully but quickly trod on ice after our stop, returning to the comfort of the van.
Finally we approached our final turnoff, and I noted how those last few miles still would take a half hour more to drive. Late that night, we pulled into the drive-way of my in-laws’ welcoming house lit brightly for Christmas. Feeling the biting cold as we piled out of the van and seeing nothing but the stark white of snow against the dark, I breathed a sigh of relief to have safely arrived!

As the setting sun glows orange
I can admire and feel the challenge
the solitary polar bear not there to plunge
its his lookout from where he can scavenge
Behold the wild vista, icicle towers so strange
adorn the landscape here nothing will change
unspoilt by man's hand nothing here to rearrange
here in rugged bleakness nothing to exchange
The wildness calls out to my soul beckoning
the orange sky brings peace, life can be demeaning
here the polar bear rules standing in last rays sunning
yet now the white flakes are falling in beauty stunning
01/06/2014 Briton Riviere, beyond Man's Footsteps
contest Let it Snow

Wind swept prairie land
Across it's southern band
The buds of early spring
Bring new life to everything
The wind blows from the south
Melting snow at the rivers mouth
Grass turning from brown to green
The prairies a pretty scene
Crows arrive from their long flight
They caw in the early morning light
The gentle falling rain
Melts the snow once again
the suns radiant rays
Shines brightly through the day
Spring has arrived once more
On the Sask. prairie floor.

A Snow day comes.
Snowfall impedes our mobility.
Now some venture out to test their ability.
Our streets and yards are pristine white.
We're trapped 'neath Winter's cold, grey light.
Don't venture out on a day like this,
As Old Man Winter shakes his fist.
You wait for the snow plough, this is no jest.
Come bake some cookies or play a board game;
Or shovel the walk way till you've got the blains.
Most hunker down by the fire to stay warm.
Even rabbits stay in on this chilly morn.
Sigh!

May the snows stop
and the rain cease…
May the winds take shelter
and let the sun birds sing.
Let out the spring!
Let out the spring!
I want the flowers to bloom
and the sun to shine
Let out the light!
I want tulips and roses
lily’s and daisy’s
Let out the birds and the bee’s
the monarchs and the daisy’s
I want the snows and the rains
the long winds and dark days
To finally end.
Let out the light!
Let out the spring!
1/14/2013

With the furious rage of a thousand Winters,
A sea of injustice, waiting at the spout.
Like the irritated bite of a good man's splinters,
That swindle and split when sweetly plucked out.
The frost-fangs froth into an empty grave,
And leave all, cowering below, to their bitter end.
Sovereign cragsmen, smothered as slaves,
Like a crumbling ship, so desperate to scend.
The mighty Alps, now a fresh garden of bones,
As its prey lie tangled in the ghastly web.
Listen to the innocent and their soft, muted moans,
And slowly keep climbing from your cruel misstep.

All night long the snow was falling
Day revealed a blanket white
Snow still floated from the heavens
Making such a pretty sight
Trees are weighed with heavy burdens
Fences topped with pointed hats
In the yard a complex pattern
Where the snow went through the slats
Quail are hopping by the window
Making little trails of tracks
Deer are stripping down the bushes
Shaking snowflakes off their backs
Though the day is white and cloudy
Still the snowflakes seem to speak
Saying, "Look at winter's blanket
It is perfect and unique."
I can't wait to make some snowballs
See the snowflakes flying by
And to feel the snowflakes stinging
As I look into the sky
So I'll make myself a fire
And I'll heat myself some tea
Then I'll build a giant snowman
For the neighbor folks to see
When I get all wet and snowy
And my fingers get too cold
Then I'll make the biggest cookies
That my stove could ever hold

The snow drifts to the ground
soft as babies breath
talcing the bottom of the farmer field.
The bows of barren maples brace
for the downy white.
Heat held in the asphalt
melts the first dusting,
its ashen countenance blanching, sullen
as the temperature plummets
cranky in the slush.
The snow laces the still air
edging the scrub brush
like baptismal lace on an infants gown.
A cradle cap for the bitter sweet
snow white and rose red.
Shush, the dawn traffic says
mother and child abed
Engines purr warmed and primed for morning.
Scrapers clear glass lens of light snow
the farm awakens.

In Georgia now, there's not much snow
At times strong winds do howling blow
In winter Sparrows on ground play
Red Cardinals join in fun some days
In winter plants rest do not grow
Once a blizzard stacked snow in rows
Winds, cold so inside with cup of joe
Unprepared for snow no horse_sleigh
In Georgia now
When it snows, things go very slow
The birds visit__ even young doe
Come to my door eat acorns stay
Squirrels and Chipmonks search for cache
That they hid_ softly buried away
In Georgia now
" I am sending you a gift of poetry,
dear heart."
For this was inspired by your poem.
"And, the snow is gently falling"..
This is for you, Constance...
Sara Kendrick

The snow sifts down on my wintry world
And covers all with white;
I see it through the window now,
Unspotted, sparkling, bright.
No one has marred its pearly face
With tracks of brown and gray;
It saddens me to think that soon
Someone may need to pass this way.
Pretty flower faces,
Please come peeping through the snow.
Show us your lovely graces,
Your satins and your laces;
Let old man winter know he has to go.
It is time he did his packing,
His ice and snow quit flashing;
It is time he left and let spring breezes blow.

It is near end of April
looking out on the fells
around the Lakeland countryside
the beauty fills one with yells
The tips of the hills
are clearly coloured white
amazing to see this
as our eyes shows this sight
For this is indeed
wonderful to behold
not to be expected
in this scene so cold
But spring will surely come
to burst through this landscape
bringing in light and colour
powerfully moulding it's shape
poetgord@2013

The cold air reaches the frigid bottom
Freezing the hillside completely on through
There’s nothing that you can do to stop it
So frozen the trees start to snap in two
Ice forms on many trees that are intact
So cold the trees look so poor and distraught
Landscape is so littered with snowy trees
They look as if they’re frozen a whole lot
There’s risk that they could fall at any time
On a hillside that sure isn’t good news
An avalanche could form from its falling
Rolling down into town and right on through
It’s so cold there’s a chance this could happen
Trees have fallen with little more than this
I would take heed and go around this hill
And wait until this cold snap surely lifts

Four Snowflakes
One little snowflake
hits the river so gently
then gone forever.
One lonely snowflake
descends into the river
nevermore to roam.
One cold white snowflake
comes flying in the windstorm
adding to the load.
The last snowflake falls
making chills that last too long
settling on his grave.
6/03/14

A happy person on a snowy morning,
standing near the sea, beneath the rising sun.
A person finding happiness while watching the sea,
standing amidst morning snow, as the sun is shining.
Happiness found on a snowy morning,
near the sea, the sun above, burning brightly.

Shamefully dull, life would be,
Without seasons to nourish me.
Winter, Spring, Summer, and Fall,
Nature’s blessings the nourish us all
Apathetic and harsh, winter is,
With arctic gales that pierce
Every linen shielding my frame.
Anomalous flakes of snow drift from the sky
As sheets of white accumulate on the ground
And weigh down the healthiest trees,
Teasing those ready for winter festivities.
Once the snow angels and snowmen are made, and
Once the sledding and snowball fights are done,
Into their warm homes, all will run,
Hiding under hoards of fleece
Until it’s time for spring to come free.
Pleasant and lively, spring is,
With liber rains falling lavishly
On soil beds of assorted seeds,
Nursed diligently by the avid gardeners
Who thirst for the sight of the first blossoms
Of poppies, roses, lilies, and tulips.
Blueberries, cherries, and strawberries
Entice the onlookers waiting to pick
The ripest harvest in a timely manner
And savoring them until summer can flare.
Fierce and fervent, summer is
With a feverish breath, that makes rain a treasure.
People gather in masses to absorb the bodies of water
As a radiant sun desiccates the land.
Outdoors, pitchers of lemonade are carried everywhere
And thriving honeysuckle sweeten the air.
Yellow lights of fireflies flicker through the night
As exhausted bodies relax beneath the stars,
Gazing in admiration, until autumn can appear
Calm and homely, autumn is
Wither green, red, and yellow foliage taking over.
Crisp leaves bustle about the ground,
Trapped by flurries of whirring winds
Until they are raked into heaps for children to dive in
And pumpkins growing in preparation to carved or baked.
Families huddle together around brilliant fires
While couples stroll through parks, taking delight in the landscape,
And having picnics until winter’s brisk rise.

I spy, a feather beauty bright
With speckled blush on breast
Basking within the thicket light
Dancing round about her tiny branch
Your fluttering sight beholding
Within the snowy briar
Bathing among the warmth
Of the morning's golden glory
Its brilliance your own crown of halo
Like a sunburst that swallows
Up the end of February's sigh
As other feathers flusters zoom right by
The ginger little fellows all dappled, scramble
A merry-go-round within a flight
Threading joyous song throughout your bramble
As further flocks of scurry, hurry fly
On parade teasing wings of faerie sprites
A musical path of crisscross kites
But, you little one are the daring, bursting forth
With higher operatic songs, to startle and scold those spry
Feather beauty bravely
Upon your perch chest thrust out boldly
Nonsense rhymes and a new found might
Chase away the imps of finch and thrush
And keep yourself the sunbeams for its light
And bask yourself once more this time
Among the drops of melting dripping snow
And gather up all tis full
Feasting here, where the wild wild berries grow
But, in the end you are their kin
And soon, my fairy feathered friend you too must go
Out, onto twittering leafy stemmy stem and off...
Into the yonder of the coming spring to rove

Everything in life
is in a constant state of change
A mountain may appear fixed
for it is unlikely to change noticeably
in our lifetime
Yet from the perspective of infinite time
that mountain is just as transient
as the morning mist
Even as one looks at the mountain
it is changing
The sun, wind, rain, snow
and other forces of Nature
are continually changing that mountain
It may take millions
perhaps billions of years
for a noticeable change
but Nature has infinite time
for the change

The snow is deep here as I trek the cold All the traps were empty and so am I I am not alone, tracking them that stole They are loud, stalking them against the sky What kind of men, clumsy and they are thieves I close in on their spot. They chose to camp boulders along the river’s winter freeze There is no fire, they look tired and damp outnumbered with all their shoulders slung What men will I find. The party I hail, without a reply unslung the bullets rung I follow thin ice, behind me like quail Now I know but they are clumsy and slow I must build a shelter, to fight the cold.

The dark gray clouds formed upon the horizon
Creating yet another dreary, cloudy, sunless day
The sun refused to shine and radiate brightness
Leaving the cool, cloudy day in gloomy despair
The snow had fallen the previous night
Covering the brown ground of fall past
The morning brought sleet and icy rain
The ground now resembles that of a ice rink
As the rain began to dress the surrounding
Ice sheets formed and clung to what it found
The snow began to fall gently downwards
Big, fluffy flakes carried on the breeze
Icicles formed and began to drip
Slowly a water droplet would fall
One by one until the icicle had disappeared
To the snow covered ground below
As the day progressed
Snow continued on it's downward flow
Ice still remained underneath the white dust
Making all movement very slow.

Blanket of snow....
Outside the air is crisp and clean
The tress are pristine white
and a blanket of snow covered the lawn.
In the distance the sounds of machines
They're plowing the roads before night.
Inside we sit snuggled together
Sipping hot cocoa with marshmallows
While enjoying the warmth of the fire
Knowing this is just the beginning of winter
We still have a long time to go.
There will be days of fun ahead
of catching snowflakes on the tongue
and seeing the frost form on the glass
of sliding down hill with the sleds.
snowmen to make, and carols to be sung.
Bonnie Hollywood-Cutts

A war in heaven reluctantly concedes
To the lullaby's in the night singing softly
Covering us in heavenly whisper blows
As feathers falling light so intense and gracefully
Escaping God's whitened watery coves
And somewhere up above
I believe there are angels also grooming
Thus, for the twilight showing, shedding as they rush
The world as such, always in a hurry
But, for an instance and out of nowhere
An avalanche of marvel captivates the hush
And in my distant mind I most certainly can relate
As to the stars and ancient sands of grain
My tongue tasting these miracles of wonder
Reaching further to acquiesce
In greetings, to miniature designs
Crafted out of God's very hands of great
While, celestial bodies move
Constant shadows consume
Around assumptions of the human mind
Thus, begins the dusk and ends
To the place where a snowflake dies
Look around
Who is it that seems to care
Or thinks to ponder the manual labor input here
With hammers, chisels, nuts and bolts
Never to witness to a mere mistake
Or upon discovery any kind of error
Yet, I listen… to the silence…
Extracting all its pleasure
Before, another million frigid seedlings ashen
Met with daunting fate
And in the still of tranquil
Neither snowflake cries out or offers up complaints
For a day
Or merely several nights evermore
A complex purpose
Or to thus, a simpler existence
Then, I pause...
Unto supposition, as I meditate the message
Guesses drift off, into what's last unknown
Of the never ending knowing
Embracing their provident life
Watch as they embrace each other closer
In a bank of ice, waiting for the melting

Some complain of snow
Some complain of the cold
But what falls from the sky
Is much more golden than gold
Blessings from the sky
Yet we turn a blind eye
We instead express our disgust
When we could turn our sins into dust
We could pray to alleviate someone’s pain
But instead we scowl and frown on that rain
We could thank God instead of making a fuss
(It’s not like He’s throwing rocks down at us!)
A time to be grateful,
Yet we just complain
We could be making precious du’aa
For major beneficial gain
But it’s easier to grumble
Roll your eyes and shake your head
You may regret not taking advantage of this
When you’re long gone and dead
Don’t delay being
Grateful to your Lord
Let your heart live out
The ‘alhamdulileh’ word.

on the rose petals
sparkling with the morning sun
bright dewdrop diamonds
beneath the streetlight
glistening on the snowflakes
sparkling white diamonds
on the ripples
shimmering in the sunshine
dancing water diamonds

My, you’re brimming with eggs, oh singing robin redbreast,
Fly to the mulberry branch with your saffron yarn to build your nest.
And hello, mandarin butterfly, look how anxiously you flit,
Here and there until at last upon the elm branch you sit.
Look on the hickory branch, you can observe a predator stalk,
The neighborhood hawk will hoist his prey to the tower loft.
A squirrel launches from an overhead limb into midair,
It rattles loose an avalanche of snow on my scalp and in my hair.

Twice in my life,
an experience to remember.
At the peak of dawn's light,
on a morning in December.
It's a beautiful thing that came,
straight from heaven's gate.
A holiday to remember,
on the 11th of December.
Everyone is excited,
as the phone begins to ring.
Look outside to see,
the snow that is falling.
An unexpected holiday,
with children out to play.
Memories will never fade,
of that December day.
The snow was steady falling.
The wind continued to blow.
Children's voices calling,
"Come play out in the snow."
So, God sent us a miracle straight from heaven's gate.
Even I went out to catch some falling snowflakes.
People everywhere,
outside in the cold.
The thing that touched my heart,
was footprints in the snow.

LOOKING AT THE MORNING SNOW
I HEAR THE WIND WHISTLING OUTSIDE
BLOWING FROM THE NORTH
I GET UP TO LOOK OUTSDE
A WONDROUS WORLD I SEE
THE EARTH,SO DEAD AND COLD
IS COVERED WITH A BED OF SNOW
SO BEAUTIFUL AND SOFT IT SEEMS
LIKE A BLANKET OF PURE DELIGHT
THE SUN IS GLEAMING AND SHINING BRIGHT
ON THIS LOVELY WINTER SCENE
IT TAKES MY TOTAL BREATH AWAY
TO SEE SUCH BEAUTY, SO SERENE
I WILL SIT HERE ALL DAY AND WATCH
THIS BEAUTY SO UNSPOILED
ITS A SHAME TO WALK AND LEAVE A TRACE
IN MY PRIVATE WONDERLAND

Silent....
high above
a winter snow melts
A greatly anticipated moment approaches....
dripping drops....
tapping sounds....
trickling down....
small veins reach in a quest....
intertwining avenues criss cross the scape merging in believe
a rage, distant, but building in degree
careening and flowing desperately
the purest of water searching for the peace of the valley green
a distant need awaits completion
a river falls
tumbling homeward
silent....
high above
a winter snow melts............
Written By ^Rick Parise
Inspired By The Poem"Spring In The Mountain" Form~Haiku Poet~A Rambling Poet(Constance)
far from city sounds
upon a misty mountain
winter ice ripples

Far above the ice and Snow
An Eagle circles waters blue
Wolves are silent as they run
While talons grasp a Salmon's scaly skin.
The twilight Shadow; wolf growling heard.
Prey is scarce, the earth is hard.
The meadow. The brook. In Forest realm.
A glint on Snow forms stories old.
The hunt; circling. The Stag now knows.
With hunger pangs and snapping maws;
The chase. The turn. The leap to throat. . .
Red eyes in twilight as the wolves do feast!
The moon is high where the wolves have stopped.
An Owl swoops down to then next perch.
Exchanges, leanings, teaching what?
A wolf starts howling in the cold Moonlight.

Blanched Bones
We’ve not dreamt the crystal morn,
the tinkling ping of sun warmed ice,
the egg white branch of lilac dipped,
the magic of the wintry day
which fills the heart with awe.
Such days of silver ice and blue white snow
the lancing spears of ‘cicle formed
awake are we to majesty, that all too soon is gone.
Gone in graceful austerity, a loveliness all its own,
the white of skeleton, these beauteous bones.
White Pages
Within the pages white as snow
and between the lines as black as coal,
to all the places You have sowed,
Oh Lord, let me abide within the line.
Within the turning page we see.
Alight, aflame in harmony.
And friends or foes do go in mystery.
Oh Lord, let me abide within the line.
Let me alight in peace with Thee and Poe,
with Kipling’s tales in Just So
with Moses staff and Joseph’s sign
Oh Lord, let me abide within the line.
White Sugar in the Morning
The Baker has glazes the brush today
twined vines, the grasses, the forest's trees.
He’s covers every hemlock with white,
downy protection from every breeze
The Baker’s glazes with soft snow of white
like meringue upon every birch twig,
His frosting covers the mountain's sides
no glacial boulder or spruce is to big.
He is top-dressing the architecture;
He's polishing the acres of asphalt.
Yes, the Baker’s glazing the world today
He’s an artisan given to much thought.

Taking suggestions especially on this poem. This is a first draft and I like it, but I don't have time to edit at the moment. Thank you!
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The two ghosts dance through the barren forrest,
leaving footsteps to be pondered about
by the man who owns the land in the morning.
Howls and Screams and Laughter and Love
fill the dewy dark sky.
The two, lovers in death,
never knowing of the truth,
that their lives were taken
Snowfalls before,
being murdered in these woods,
their throat slits and their bodies mutilated,
No one knew who they were.
But here they are again,
running through the spindly trees,
taking in the scenes of their
eternal winter.
He takes her hand,
leading her to an opening in the trees,
a perfect circle, no light insight
but the stars above,
so beautiful,
so prominent.
Theres not a place in this town
better than this
to see the future amongst the stars.
They came here that day,
tent in one hand,
telescope in the other;
their thoughts in the air.
They were seventeen,
Seniors awaiting the approval
of a diploma,
They should be studying,
mid-terms next week.
They took a fatal break,
spent the night together,
only belonging to each other.
The ghosts;
who's sight doesn't recognize
the spot of their demise.
They sit on top of a large smooth stone,
Left their by the world in it's hurry.
They gaze upon the stars,
waiting for the world to reveal itself.
The screams and wails and love still permeate the air.
They fell asleep in each others arms,
and so they never heard the footsteps,
the drunken laughs of men full of sin,
ready for some action.
They found the tent,
they killed the innocent souls,
but instead of leaving they bodies,
they left the ghosts,
taking the bodies and
depositing them in the freezing lake.
They then sat upon the rock,
laughing about the deed done,
passing out in the deadfall of snow.
The transparent lovers jump to the snow,
throwing themselves down to sleep the night away.
They cuddle,
protecting each other from the snow,
the danger,
the truth.
The smile,
and with one last scream,
they kiss,
disappearing,
merging with the snow,
Part of the world,
and this spot full of false truths.
No longer do lively bodies wander about the woods,
and the owner hardly visits.
But a few times each winter,
when the snow has fallen so deep,
You can hear the screams,
the howls,
the laughter
and the love
of two ghosts
dancing in the snow.

white is the new snow
it colours land with pureness
fresh and crisp to touch
Pristine snow lay over the fields clothing it in white crystals
soft piles of deep drifts abound the hedges
the simple beauty of the snowdrops poking up their heads
as the land warms, white daffodils wave their trumpets like wands
followed by the hawthorn which coats the valley in white
the blossom on the various fruit tree a delightful sight
beautiful highly scented elderberry flowers shower the trees
stately white lilies greet the bride as she draws nigh the alter
virginal blossoms
adorn and scent the arbour
a delightful sight
01/02/2014
contest Something in White

In the deep of the snow, In the dead of winter,
Under the Aurora Borealis taking our breath away.
The snow turtles jostle, and skittle, and Skim the snow,
All in a beautifully quiet nights, bountiful, wonderful play.
Man has seldom seen this recluse, so gentle and so renowned.
White as the snow packed earth itself, they simply can’t be found.
They sled and slide and scurry to hide before the break of day,
No one knows they’re even there, for they make not even a sound.
Animals respect them for they can’t make them into prey.
Even the polar bears leave them alone, except for to play.
And no matter how much the bears bat them about, I say!
They just close up and go wherever they are conveyed.
Magical, they can swim waters quite cold and really deep.
They eat the little fishes and enjoy whatever they can reap.
A man will never find their den as they dig into the frozen snow,
For like the tundra gophers, they live in the frozen ground below.
I swear they do exist, for a baby once came to me, admiring my fishing pole.
For I had lots of little tasty, yummy, fish that he wanted my son and I to throw.
We obliged him just that once, and then for more nights before we left his land.
But if you're going searching there’s something I should let you know, offhand.
They only show themselves to the pure of heart with a fish offering in your hand.

Winter winds ice intricate swirls,
as Jack frost pierces Nature’s heart.
And etches glass with abstract curls,
sculpting spirals of frozen art.
Virgin flakes of the purist white,
emerge from crystals clear as glass.
And tumble to Earth in free flight,
their fragile beauty doomed to pass.
A rising sun ignites the sky,
its beams imbuing ice with fire.
Yet the skittish clouds won't comply,
and the flickering flames expire.
A crunchy crust of sparkling snow,
is adorned with crystals of light.
And yet this splendiferous show,
vanishes at the edge of night.
Shifting silhouettes creak and crack,
while a saffron moon beams from space.
And as shadows stretch into black,
bashful stars shyly show their face.

As I walk through the city
in the dead of winter,
(on the way home she is giddy
for the world has taken her)
The ice and the snow and the sleet and the hail
cling to my skin, but I cannot care.
(all that you see is an angel of ice,
her hair covered in snow, you try rolling the dice)
A boy walks towards me, but I barely see.
He starts to talk, I just take out my key.
(She offers a piece of lavender sweet,
then she turns away going on down the street)
He may not understand the gift that I've given him.
I don't know why, it's not worth much...my light is so dim.
(As the snow swirls around her you hear a small sound,
you blink and she's gone, never to be found)
I left him my heart and my soul, so frozen,
now I will return when the earth is golden.
The winter of my life will someday end,
but until that happens, I do have a friend.

It is snowing tonight!
How beautiful it is!
Everything is so lovely!
The first snow of the year!
I was all set for bed
when I decided
to put out the light and
to look out the window
The fresh snow on the ground
and on the housetops
unspoiled by man or beast
appears so peaceful and serene
I see a pine tree
and the upper portion
of its branches and needles
are gently covered with snow
I have seen that same tree
many times before
but never has it looked
as lovely as it looks tonight

First Frost of the Season
By Reg Rhodes
September 1st; the first frost of the season.
The coolness in the air inspires my imagination.
What new adventures will the Rocky Mountain winter bring?
How much snow will fall before spring?
350 inches of snow, or more?
I'm so happy to once again live my life the way it was before!
My snowmachine still waits in summer hibernation.
The sight of it makes me giddy with anticipation.
Soon, I will be rushing down high mountain chutes, overwhelmed with exhilaration.
The smell of snowmobile exhaust Invokes reflections of fresh powder flowing over the top of my sleds hood.
Floating through the mountain powder makes me feel so incredibly good!
What snowy treasures hidden in the backcountry, will we find?
When we explore the endless acres of immense forest pine.
The trees will beckon to me; and I'll leave my worries behind.
It is in the deep snows and thick pines; where I find my solace and inner peace.
The sight of snow capped mountain tops provides me with a wonderful spiritual release!
The early fall frosts reward me with immense inspiration;
to once again embrace life, and the unique winter season!

Snow Falls
Crisp air in the night
Sky full of moonlight
The snow gently falling like diamond dust
Covering the earth with sparkling gems
Soft and pure in its beauty leaving the world in silence
I stand letting the blanket of silence envelop me,
Tilting my head into the night sky
The snow landing on my cheeks and lips
Like a lover’s caressing kiss
Coaxing the earth into a gentle sleep
Blanketing us all in winter’s peace
Silently the snow falls
Written By: Janet Setters

Side streets, avenues and boulevards
seem fortifications of past civil wars
with piles of ice glistening, and the grime
and dirt from passing cars splash them with slime..
The meteorologist from Eyewitness News grins as he tracks down the January storm
predicting no pleasant, sunny weather or break in clouds tomorrow night;
more snow from West Carolina will arrive to New York Harbor after midnight,
then it will change to ice, rain and sleet....I'll drink plenty of coffee to keep me warm!
So worried, I called my pretty niece who's traveling up North,
I told her to drive safely and stop at a gas station to check her tires,
but Claudio will soothe her blues as he hums many happy rhymes,
and lots of stories he will tell me having seen the kids of the South.
Wednesday I will go back to work, having plenty of time to sleep...
to do as I will, but staring at a blackened snow at every curb,
I can't bear the thought that spring is months away and my Ford
is parked between cars that haven't been moved since last week.
I'm waiting without thrill more snow from West Carolina,
praying for everyone's safety as they cross another borderline...
If I were a kid, I'd build the funniest snowman on my block,
and happily go around it twenty times as a quacking duck!

Geese glide thru the air watching the snow roll with the flow.
Squirrels jump in the piles to wiggle and roll.
Dogs check every nock and cranny then run all around.
Little girls make snow angels where perfect delicate wings abound.
Boys make a fort with a snowball fight destined to win.
Skaters sweep snow from their ice to be able to spin.
Hockey players in their play scatter the snow and rough up the ice.
Mothers look from the window, where while baking every thing looks nice.
Sleders regale themselves in the speed of the hill.
To driver’s it’s dangerous, messy, slowing everything down.
But to every one it’s the time of year where joy can abound,
All because the swirling madness came floating down and around.
And after the fun when we lay snuggling in our beds…
We’ll sleep till the next day with snow dancing in our heads.
And dreading the day when the snow goes away,
We can’t wait to run out and again to play.

3Fable5
3Fable5
Winter Survival
CharlaxFabels
In the Winter of 83 they used to tell me stories the snow was over the telephone
lines and they rode horses there and walked them OVER the lines see eh? Oh
ewe beware the stories of men and read only the charlaxfabels over and over
again. The worst one was back in 2005 the snow was four feet deep they took
machetes and tore my roof off my survival tent.
1 Peter 3:9
Do not repay evil with evil or insult with insult, but with blessing, because to this
you were called so that you may inherit a blessing.
Eye moved my shelter somehow avoiding a fight and learned just to survive
survival is eating food. Men eat and fight and eating becomes the more important
of the two what kind of neighbor would eye be if eye had fought with thee and not
learned the Golden Rule. Eye lived several different lifetimes sack lunches do not
suffice to rule the hunger in one man. Once eye was worried for existence
seeming Death was at my door. Women thought me evil not suited up just for
they love. Fruit is not my forte orange apple even pomegranate found
persimmons rot on vines in trees not meant to live. Eye ate so many meats they
kicked me out of storeage land and chased me from the parking lot with nothing
in my hand. Potatoes is a fruit and not a veggie in my world. Golden throbbing
corn is afforded to the poor ed.note @39 cents a can at most retail outlets.
Hominy both gold and white is my favorites. Eye just decided to detective the
students many behavioral ways and iff eye had three classes in the afternoon
even if they were staggered over SIX hours the eye would not be in the library
more than thirty minutes at a time. Be that as it may or as it were the ending is
the same eye am a student of life. Walk in an endless path with snow up to the
waisted place then dry the socks in bags and tie them to the feet and hope the
dry will stay to un rot the flesh and hope the shoes will work and not develop
sticheing of the holes in the side of doors and tankards full of glass. Coyboy is
the last to understand a memory taken in the hand.

Bristling yet beguiling winds are
driving snow sheets through the dark,
and, secured by brick and lamp,
I draw a comforter to my breast,
one woven by humanity.
I sense that each quickening gust
is pulling through the loom of time
life's many multi-colored threads.
A hickory brown is borne to me
of ships defying depths and dangers,
carrying dreams and heartaches.
Glistening now--the lucent blue
of fertile, percolating minds
genome maps and software.
I feel the orange of affection,
hearth and smiles and homecomings,
the warmth of song and story.
The blinking silver of fantasy,
visionaries, piercing sterility--
castles, stars, utopias.
Here is a filament of frothy pink
comedies, dances and levity,
play and spontaneity.
The looming strands of swarthy black
necessities, death, and armies,
relentless in their marching.
The golden promise of sacred texts,
altars, candles, hope,
encoded and translated.
Emerging, the green of recent growth,
rites of spring and passage,
learning and inner progress.
With such a large and lustrous blanket
in which to sink, like a new-born babe,
I'll toss some folds to you, as they will
easily stretch from here to there.

A froth of snow crusts the ground,
fixing in place the remaining blades of green grass
and outlining the metal edges of stop signs.
The road weaves wearily through the
freshly white washed landscape
with its distant, dusted, granite outcroppings.
Fellow travelers in blanketed cars whoosh passed
chunks of icy snow fly, lambasting the negligent bumper hugger.
Warmed by the wheels spin the asphalt seizes its shivering.
Weighted wires laden and humming unburden themselves
upon frosted windshields with undignified plops
and so the momentary beauty of a winter morn passes.

I love the sounds of winter
And the fancy way she dresses
When it snows...
I love the ice kisses she throws
From roof tops and trees
Icicles crystal clear
Forming and falling like tears
From the eyes of deserted lovers...
I love the crunch-crunch of her
Padded spaces and the way
Winter laces snow flakes falling
In piles of glee...
Snow angels, wide and free
Big and small, ah, come one,
Come all.
What I like about winter, is my new song
Now I must run along to fetch my sled
And tumble over and over in my snow bed...
Oh, I hear the voices of children at play,
Winter!
Winter!
You have made my daydreams come true!

The days are lengthening, yet no snow
birds starting to nest, too soon I fear
winter still has yet to show her powers
buds forming on fruit trees need no frost
its icy fingers would kill them completely
All is too advanced, the bugs having a field day
gardener's will curse the abundant snails and slugs
that feast on their succulent sweet crops
we need several hard frosts to kill them off
a time of plenty too for rats and scavengers
who feast on carcasses of the unfortunate
much as I and others dislike the cold
for the balance of nature we need the icy temperatures
to keep things as nature intends them to be
snow or a 4 day hard hoar frost then let spring come
Let spring burst forth in her warmth and splendour
chasing away the blues left by winters icy fingers
and the world leave the stark bare white far behind
as colour in all its hues and shades coats the land
bringing with it, both, new hope and renewed life

The long never ending landscape of southern Alabama never runs cold. Today it decided to. The wind was at
ease and all the snow flakes were about. The cold ground shuddered beneath me but I could tell it was a good
kind of shiver. The snow fell down in a hurry yet it still took it's time swaying in the wind. All the snowflakes
danceing around soon started a low tune far off on the wind. The band played a song that the world has been
playing for centerys. One of love and peace. One that has no bounds or experation date. The song was cold
enough to freeze the earth but here I stood warm as I basked in my happieness. The world seemed still as the
orchestra played it's beautiful tune. The wind swirling and twirling as if it were a finely tuned violin. I couldn't
bare to close my eyes for it was just to beautiful to look away from. As the wind picked up in it's gusts the
snow felt ever so heavier and the skys begain to melt the love within the snow as all the snowflakes fell down
as rain. "What a beautiful conversion" crossed my thaughts. The snowed over feild grew dreadfully quiet as the
beautiful tune escaped into the wind. This was when I sudenly realized I was soaked and freezing. Almost killed
me but I steped inside away from the Alabama snow. But I knew she'd come back for me.

Let me tell you about the coldest winter ever. I thought the snow would continue to fall
forever. A blizzard came through and snowed us in. I caught the flu and was delirious for
an entire weekend. The electricity was out and no doubt all was lost. It seems we could not
overcome the frost. Kerosene heaters could only do so much. Everything in the house was
ice cold to the touch. We were so cold, we did not even have a desire to eat. Huddled
together, fighting the weather with our body heat.
The winter was so mean, and just when there was a sprinke of hope...we ran out of
kerosene! And cold water equals bad hygiene. We eventually ate saltines for protein. We
would shiver under the covers thinking we were gonna freeze to death; but we discovered
warmth in our hot smelly breath. During the night we used a flashlight. Being out from under
covers our bodies would be attacked by frost bite.
On that last morning at the crack of dawn. The snow was melting and I could see parts
of the lawn. We were all physically, emothionally drained. But the cold still remained. I
then knew, that too, would not last forever. But it was still the coldest winter ever.
Note: Constance la france wanted to feel the chill of winter for the contest "Let it
Snow" ...Read on but don't get frost bit...lol

Snow piercing the night so sleek,
Rapidly pounding my face to obscurity,
Chilling facets that make me meek,
Losing my calmness and security,
Driving and hammering its purity.
Blinding whiteness overpowering physique,
A storm that features pure barbarity,
Securing my still eyes into mystique,
Delivering my motions to lose stability,
I may never again feel any solidarity.
An epic storm unlike any other so bleak,
Shall bare within history a true rarity,
Totally listed inside of nature’s freak,
Total design of Jack Frost’s tyranny,
Legend of this storm will go into posterity.
date written
11-29-2013

Even in our winter season the soul of the coming year bursts through hard thick frost,
Even in high piles of purest white snow, buds grow for our future of the next summer,
Blow flowers stir and seeds my mind with flowers of the rarest beauty of our nature,
It is a miracle of this world a characteristic of not understanding natures jigsaws.
Every leaf every little flower and grain will enrich the earth to sustain its many needs,
It would take too long to enumerate all the flowers, buds the insects in each new year,
A Christmas rose expands its white chalice undaunted by the sharpest of crystal frosts,
It blooms amid overwhelming wreaths of snow and the hardest ground but it never fails.
In the valleys of high mountains the ground is covered with these hardy beautiful flowers,
January has a dear old favorite and my old friend the snowdrop a delicate mighty force,
White aconites, the white leaved colts foot flower grow in the milder months of our winter,
In the woods and hedges insects begin to recommence active life under barks of old trees.
Every advancing day presents us with a fresh and cheering symptom of a clean new spring,
Hedge sparrows and the thrush begin to sing, wren pipes lay, we see a golden crested wren,
Blackbirds whistle and linnets gather and little lambs appear in cold snow covered fields,
The house sparrow, a bold courageous bird, renews his brisk chirping a challenge to cold.
So when we look through white frosted panes of spun glass and look across winter countryside,
When we moan we are bored but it is too cold to take a walk or play in the clear open air,
When we come home from working and complain that their feet are wet, cold and badly wrinkled,
Nature is busy getting her armies together to make meadows wonderful and glades beautiful.
There is no season without a witness of a higher greatness which I cannot understand,
In the cold iron depth of winter nurtures the whole vegetation of our future summer,
Like germs of faith and hope in the heart of man that cannot and must not ever fail,
Little buds grow on a bough, corn peeks from frozen earth, nature has moved a mountain.

LAST HURRAH OF THE MELTING SNOWHEAPS
Glisten you snow heaps.
Coruscate your last
In this sun.
For listen - you show
Signs of fading fast.
The sun which now magnifies your import
Will tomorrow bleed you to nothing:
And you will be an ill-recalled memory
In the far off sunny days of spring
………………………………………………………………………………
NOTE
Ever watched a melting snow heap
draining its life in rivulets of jewels like liquid diamonds?

Would the scent of winter,
the smell of fresh snow
mean much to me
if I'd been down south
breathing the scent of the sand
in a better climate since a child?
If i found snow at fifty
I'd dance around with wonder
and shout the most magnificent praises
that anyone could raise
but I'd ignore the smell
and scurry back inside.
The resonate purity of youth
comes off the snow consecrated soil.
It's not a memory of youth
left wanting or yearning
but all at once I'm reimmersed,
undistracted in the storm.

Swirling leaves, the earth grows still awaiting its time of sleep. The skies turn grey. The time grows short. The birds take to the sky on retreat.
The snow falls from the heavens above. The wind becomes blustery and cold. The sun shines on the blankets of snow reflecting hues to gold.
The rain comes down and torrents. Little petals of green appear. The earth bursts forth in color
a time that spring is near.
The sun shines gloriously above the earth. The grass is full and green. The fields are full of flowers as far as the eye can see.
Each season is a creation of a part of a continuous link. A time of birth and renewal, a time of reprieve and sleep.
God has given us this earth as a special gift. It is a promise from him above. That our lives should never become mundane and in God we should trust and love.
Make each day that you live a memorable one. Leave your signature behind. Reach out and touch the heart of a loved one. Visit a friend in need. Take the time.
For when you enter in to the heavenly gates and your time on earth is done. When your seasons have now passed away God will say enter my little one.
For when your life is over what will you have left behind? The memories of your patience and love passed on eternally throughout all mankind.
by Kim Paquin

The American eagles left their warm nests
before snow fell on the evergreen pines and spruces,
so did the ravens, grackles and petrels...
hidden among the white mountains, the river still flows.
So peaceful, so cold is this winter afternoon,
no other sound but the waters babbling on rocks,
flowing into the wide valley below without a tune...
two months ago, the placid lake swarmed with ducks.
Footprints are visible into the frozen snow that no one loves...
who would venture in this life-threatening wilderness?
Could it be a grizzling gone astray, or searching for his cubs?
Leave it to the imagination, or simply take a guess!
So peaceful, so cold is this winter afternoon,
and the more I look, the less I think of danger...
I would love to get out and discover it like the slow-moving raccoon
seeking food until he shivers and decides to turn back with anger.

-
It was 1947 the big snow had lay
It started in February and ended in May.
It ran to the top of the telegraph pole
And over thatched houses as if they were stole
The people did shiver the old ones pasted on
The turf was well saved but crusted there on
The sheep on the mountain disappeared like those homes
Were buried in caves of snow shrouded domes
A prod of the stick at eight feet below
a squel of the ram but no ewe did it show
Of 100 sheep a loss of just 9
Most of them father's and no of them mine
A rumour in town of the council's domain
The towns folk dug path ways to council's main lane
The heads of the people would pass by a store
Only their heads nothing else to the floor.
A child of the snow my father did say
He was but 13 his brother away.
A rare treat came hoping as tall as my pa
a hare of white coat as strange as they saw
They dined for a week on stew with pine nut
A gift out of winter from god's earthly hut
The snow finally melts and the sheep sprang about
Close to a famine but better than drought
My father sat watching from outside the thatch
Mother Annie spinning her socks that should match
This view down the mountain o're summer's sweet bog
He now drives his red bus through Birmingham's smog.
True

The hawk flies high upon the sky his dinner there to seek.
His home the woods along the river- now subdivisions complete.
But he’s not down because he’s found more places yet to dwell.
Just look around and you will find a feast that’s sweet- I tell.
Upon a tree in our back yard he stands- much patience he bestows.
Look around, the food abounds, of this he greatly knows.
His nest is near, and all is clear that hunting is sublime.
Rabbits and quail, doves and mice, plus starlings he yells are mine.
In this area of much to choose, the clime is just so right
Snow does not quell his daily hunt or his fearless flight.
Streetlights are fine to view his space, to observe so neat.
When winter comes he will not run. He does not know retreat.
For snow and cold he holds no fear, forever on the prowl.
His eyes are sharp. He flies high, knowing there’s plenty of fowl.
He circles the trees gliding high, to descend on what he sees.
He knows his strength is in surprise, but proudly sits some trees.
He zooms in like a bombardier to birds I daily feed.
Now he occasionally finds a squirrel upon to take his need.
My little birdies I do love. I hate to see them scatter.
Pretty soon I do believe my window they will shatter.
The hawk is gold and brown to red, majestic is his stance.
He’d better get the squirrels and leave my birds, or we still may dance.
They are part of the circle of life, and endangered yet may be.
So I will put my slingshot down and not scare them away, you see.
Instead I’ll watch Darwin’s Dance to see who wins the treat.
Already the doves get up before dawn- my birdseed so smart to eat.
It’s quieter then, no hawks in view, they eat peacefully what they see.
The hawks are fast, but little birds do know to hide among the trees.
My little birds’ jump from branch to branch- the hawks are slower here.
And when the hawk does come about, the others quickly disappear.
But do not count him down and out. The hawk is king you see.
Though he still loses from time to time, he’s adapted and still is free.
And like the smaller little birds, he gets enough to eat.
I’m sure he’ll be here years to come. He is tough to beat.
CSEastman 9-30-2011

Looking out my window when the air is cold and brisk
I see the sun is shining and my heart is filled with bliss
Knowing that in this beauty nothing can go amiss
The snow is new and glistneng in it's white and untouched glory
Waiting for children to come and play, making their own happy story
As I watch new snow falls and there is magic in the air
I feel the elation of everyone that is there
Creating a snow man with spagetii for hair
Soon they'll come inside, cold and dripping wet
The children, they are all as happy as they can get
I await their smiling faces inside by the fire
With hot chocolate and listening to Cristmas songs sung by a chior
Jacque Graham
11/1/11

The snow fluttered down
Like a bird in flight,
Bringing some light
To the cold winter's night.
Snowmen stood lonely
No longer in prime,
Left to be destroyed
By the passing of time.
Children lay sleeping
Warm in their house,
No one stirred
Not even a mouse.
Adults were tranquil
And full of good will,
Watching the robins
On the windowsill.
As sunrise grew near
People started to wake,
Just as the breeze
Started sweeping the lake.
The sun rose up
In a distant glow,
Casting shadows on the
Quickly melting snow.
The snowmen were dripping
As they started to melt,
No longer did they look
Like a proud Scottish celt.
The clouds were coloured
They had yellows, pinks and reds,
Drawing the sleepy children
Up and out of their beds.
The snow had gone
As quickly as it came,
Only the sun
Could have been to blame.

Flying up around recently of huge
fell snow in apiece
a crazy sigh seemly of snow
without course landing —
so easily flying-so enjoying
pulling by the gravity and wind
and come blaze or portion higher
from the roofs or trees . . .
and while the wind stopped
a clear and empty space
By effects it’s staying.
Oh, while by certain any come
back of the winter around
in sort or strongly strike —
again, flying the snow apiece
without of course landing —
again flying the snow was recent
fell over streets—over roofs
Over the many it trees, circuses.

The snow crunches under my toes.
I feel like Frosty, wrapped up and poofy yet bitterly cold.
Cracking ice, frozen breath, my nose turns a painful pink.
I scoop up snow without gloves,
To examine each individuality...
My life-long curiousity with Wilson A. Bently's science.
My fingers tighten and prickle with cold,
so I follow animal tracks home.
I, bundled and cheerful,
Amble home from the frost to the hearth.

Seasons Changing
Autumns come,seasons changing
Mother earth gently rearranging
leaves of red,orange and gold
glorious colors do unfold
winter is coming it's in the air
I feel it's chilly fingers run thru my hair
soon the ground will be covered in white
as snow falls quietly in the night
and when the snow melts and it's time for spring
the earth reborn,crisp and clean
flowers pop up everywhere
everywhere you look you see
the inevitable colors of spring
my favorite color glorious green
Summer is here and in full bloom
as I sit under a full,jeweled summer moon
I love the 4 seasons each one of them all
spring,summer,winter and

No January morning is ever so devastating, the heavy icicles
dangle from the frozen shingles of houses with puffing chimneys;
no eyes will see the misery of scattered, broken snow flowers...
all paths winding down the icy slopes are buried as memories
of summers past, and by late spring, will they return to us?
Ah, fierce is the strong hand of Nature causing fear through vengeance!
The coldest wind howls, bends trees finding no resistance,
only snow is seen for miles stretching into the warmer South;
where are the Eskimo dogs pulling the heavy-loaded sleights?
Where are the chiseled-faced drivers with the fur-covered heads?
Where are the fishing boats loaded with salmon and trout?
Ah, fierce is the hand of Nature causing fear through vengeance!
It'll get dark early, mornings will be cold and evenings as frigid as Iceland',
only the pathetic moon will shed its dim light on that thick and vast
sheet of gleaming ice that bears crack with their excessive weight...
why live in this cold region and wait for the tons of snow to melt?
Travel South, straight into California to catch some healthy sunshine;
your pale skin will turn red, golden, or bronze while smelling the scent of a vine!
Forget these poetic words that end my long epic of sad reminiscence,
" Ah, fierce is the strong hand of Nature causing fear through vengeance! "
Entered in Sidney LeeAnn's contest,
" Dead Winter "
Written by Andrew Crisci

She, meaning that of something of nature.
Something born pure of wonders and such beauty.
Autumn, the time of year when all tree’s bloom that of color and love.
When the leaves fall to the ground to which it lye’s.
To there to which was thought of love from far.
As it was there my heart laid in thought.
As the wind blows through this cool autumn day.
As this day we have crossed in life.
But this day have I seen Autumn’s Beauty she portrays.
It’s there deep in soul I want to touch her.
As I think what it would be like for our lips to touch in such a passion.
In a manor of discrete and commitment.
To feel the true love to which autumn has inspired the sky’s to frost air.
To feel the warm, soothing breeze; she enhances my soul.
As I lye here in the leaves in the center of the woods.
I stare at the clouds rolling through the tree tops.
You know its beauty that enlightens the air.
As I sat and gaze at the mountains and curves she portrays.
To watch her move across the floor heaven has laid.
Captures my heart in many ways.
As the beauty of autumn is an inspiration to me everyday.
I know it’s something pure; God has put in my life this day.
I know I would be blessed that of an angel of heavens best.
As autumn I think of this day.
That just to have her love would be like that of a snow fall cover.
As nature was very kind with the scenery of the landscape.
As I would love her in many ways a snow flake would melt.
That the snow Tip Mountains wouldn’t be that of a cold snow drift lay.
But everyday would be a warm Beauty of Autumn love at blaze.

Ode to Snow
From the cloudy sky
It floats softly down,
Drifting silently by
Quickly blankets the ground.
On skeletal tree limbs and evergreen boughs
Covering dead leaves and pine cones,
As thick as weight will allow
The arms of branches take the burden now.
It dances on errant breezes
Or flies swiftly to the side,
The wind will carry it where it pleases
Coming down heavy now, spreading far and wide.
I walk among its chilliness
And wonder if it knows,
That it brings me such happiness
The peacefullness of snow.
Soon spring will come upon the land
Winter storm clouds will part,
Drifty mountains once so grand
Will quickly start to melt.
Then rain will wash the snow away
Rebirth of blossoms, new growing grass
Summer flies quickly by, Autumn seems only a day
All too soon the stormy snow clouds will amass.

They told me before I left the south
Son, the snow gets kind of dirty down here
And eyes find a fence against the glare
But boy, I see you hankering to go out
And your face be turned north for its spring
And your heart beats after the birds on wing
You long to go where cageless a man can sing
But remember in any mountain the bear's king.
You should have seen me the first I saw snow
White and unblemished, my faith fluttered high
I could not stop staring at the thing if I did try
The light rose from it and seared me in its glow
My vision shattered like glass, too small to cut
The rope dangling above that pit in my gut
And then I looked till liberty was like a slut
And I was old tom shuffling to peace in my hut
I saw the skin's color, alright. The bloodless snow
But I did not see that nature is deeper than skin
Or that innocence must precede each coming sin
When the eyes were wide shut, could I still know?
I was blinded by the light to believe some drop of it
Was still so good, and then captured by the spirit
I felt I should, to some egalitarian faith, commit
Since deep dark is like looking at close and brightly lit
In neither can one tell red from brown, or green
From blue, but I have how even shapes disappear
When the white feathers of frost are strewn here,
There and everywhere: the snow swallows the stare
Of my man who cannot feel the wilderness cold
Seeping through cramps and feet, no sunset gold,
No rust of morning, nor dark of night, we can hold
One beam of faith to support the brightly blinded soul.

Venus flickers through the trees, the air now beyond crisp,
As toes and fingers curl and uncurl with each step.
Fallen trees are dodged in the fading light,
And the snow once more has become a crusted sheet.
A shotgun rides upon a shoulder,
Not caring anymore if game is near.
When another step sets a partridge into flight,
The unanticipated flapping of wings warms the hunter for a moment.
The body now leans as a ski jumper would,
In order to clamber the last hill before the road.
And the crusted snow rises to meet the knees,
With each failure to maintain the huntsman’s weight.
The snow is plowed high at the roadway’s edge,
And covers a barbed wire fence.
But the fence is bridged where a tree lay across it,
And the road is gained, as a hunter’s Moon points the way home.

Moonlight glistens on snow
and he's stalking,
slyly slinking, belly-cresting
coverts to the coop.
Silence his canopy,
hugging the hedgerows
to safeguard his cover,
there's death in his eyes.
Silence is shattered,
the virgin white snow is blood-spattered;
no mercy is shown,
no quarter is given.
Silence settles again,
he retires, hunger sated,
he'll forage again as
his craving dictates.

In the wintry countryside, January bares her soul and lets little buds grow,
Under drifts of pure white snow, hedge high frost hardened, there is movement,
Shoots of brave winter flowers wake, and they in turn wake our summer flowers,
Then the rarest of all our flowers the blow flower stirs hidden away from all.
With frosted snow lay-ed and the skies clear, it reflects a lapis lazuli blue,
The new snow that has fallen on top of icy snow the breeze blows it into spray,
The binding of the snow beneath there is hardness that allows us to walk on it,
Walking on snow is a wonderful feeling looking over hedge tops and deep valleys.
It's good to feel the frozen mass crunching under foot but we sometimes slide,
Only rivers show themselves, their wintery hues amid the trees and grey rocks,
And because it has been a snowy winter stories circulate around warm firesides,
Of travelers lost in great drifts on the wild moorlands and snow laden forests.

By Robielynn Collins
What a gorgous morning,
I'll have to say,
a wonderful start,
to a beautiful day,
with the sky so blue,
and the glistening snow,
with it's shades of hue,
it may be only 20 degrees,
but the spectacular view,
will surely please,
with the thundering rockies,
and enormous pines,
and the wild animals,
of every kind,
Craig, Montana,
can steal your heart,
you'll realize it,
from the very start..

Mr. Winterful
Winter flakes fall ever so lightly
Blanketing the land ever so slightly.
Showering hypnotic flakes as I drive
around.
Entrancing sleep as they gingerly float
down.
Each flake different in size and in shape.
A winter wonderland of a white landscape.
Walking in town the snow flakes melt
upon my lips.
The winter wind grows colder as the
temperature dips.
People clutch at their coats as winter
winds thrash.
As the snow and the wind swirl into a wild
mishmash.
Darkness falls upon~ the white covered
showcase.
Drifts of snow shift and blow all over the
place.
I snuggle under my blankets and feel
toasty warm.
As Mr. Winter continues on to fall free-
form.

The alabaster snow hides
the scars of dead earth
with a cold cruel beauty
fierce and crippling
lacking in warmth.
The snow queen battles
with moaning wind
refusing to withdraw
as her anger increases
veiling any promise
of renewal and rebirth.
Laughing she challenges
all rights for survival
humiliating both man and beast.

In a small hamlet people were outside their dwellings staring up at a heavy black sky,
Wind lashed the trees and front doors a big storm was about to happen and very soon,
Small ice flakes whipped up in the wind stinging eyes I had a big dewdrop on my nose,
After some time the blackened sky opened the winds raged and the snow began falling.
Like a roaring bear gusts of winds blew the nearby sea sending salty spray to join snow,
The wind sweeping across the land fiercely blowing gales loosening objects in its path,
An old man curled up against his fire heavy snow swept under his door and over his eaves,
As snow started to fall harder the flakes were huge swirling in blustery bitter cold winds.
That night was so cold every one went to collect logs for a fire smoke rose from chimneys,
Figures seen in silhouette behind lighted icy windows, doors were bolted the eaves blocked,
Friends gathered in each others houses sipping wine their singing muffled by high winds,
The worst storm that many could recall elders told stories of bigger storms tongue in cheek.
All night long snow fell in the morning villagers went outside to see the damage caused,
The sun shone with such brightness the blue sky and the carpets of snow hurt their eyes,
Icy snow was very deep and big white chunks of frozen snow stuck to bottoms of shoes,
A tall tree stood in the middle of the hamlet heavy lines of snow bent its tough boughs.
Stories circulating round firesides of travelers lost in great drifts on wild moorlands,
Wanderers that had perished, frozen in the deep snow all lost in the snow laden woods,
In the morning the snows stopped bringing sunny clear skies that shone like lapis lazuli,
The wind whistled blowing top snow into a fine spray leaving a surface frosty and hard.
There was a wonderful feeling walking along hedge-tops and across deep white valleys,
All now filled and level, the frozen mass crunching under heavy steps in snow boots,
Finding only the rivers showing themselves by their wintry hues amid trees and rocks,
Visitors from the north the red wings, thrushes and field-fares flew back to their homes.

I walk alone in dark of night,
The starry sky my only light.
The crunch of snow beneath my feet,
Turning the corner, my shadow I meet.
My breath a cloud, distorts my sight.
The fields of farmers lay covered in snow,
My path shining ice, slipping sliding as I go.
The thoughts I hold they slowly drift away,
Troubles and concerns from another long day.
As I breathe in the frosty night air, memories flow.
Dainty snowflakes dancing high above,
The nighttime holds me like a glove.
Buried beneath the snow and ice,
Spring flower bulbs and sleeping mice.
Alone, peaceful - the sheltering night I love.
Across the fields the lights of home,
My feet step lightly as I roam.
Relaxed and released from everyday cares, the chilly night air captures my tears.
The warm house greets me, it feels good coming home.

Yes, I know, I should be alongside.
Age and bad knees
dictate that I am inside the cab
with a long, green leash
so Katie can run close by
every morning,
for the last seven years
in rain, snow and sunshine.
She runs in earnest ( can a dog do that ? )
Her tongue is back against her cheek.
Her ears scan and sweep
and swivel around
left and right
listening for something ahead
or behind
as she gallops, trots,
saunters, paces
at my side.
Sometimes in the dark,
sometimes, just as the sun is coming up,
but always in the morning,
when the smells
of the deer and elk
are still fresh in the grass
and the berry bushes
along the fence.
I love to see her run. I love to hear her run.
I can hear the jangle jangle of her tags and her collar --
her leathery, black ears flapping against her head.
her breathing and sometimes
a snort or puff as her strong, wide paws hit their mark
ker-plop, ker-plop.
Nails dig into the ground
little wisps of grass and dirt, flying.
Now, her ears are back over her head and
the leathery tips almost touch
as her back legs push
like a rabbits
working in time
driving her faster.
When the snow is here
her feet beat their rhythm
in the icy white stuff.
Crunch, crunch, crunch,
the first marks in the snow,
and maybe -- the
marks, in line with the truck's tracks,
there
the next morning.
When she stretches all the way out
in a full run, her tongue is out --
far out of her mouth,
almost lashing against
her cheek.
Her strong back legs
the rounded, hard muscle under the shiny, black coat,
push her along
and I wonder
how all those legs and feet work
in synchronization
as she concentrates on her task
or has her eye
on something ahead
that she has got to get to
now!

Open my senses and pour into me
all of the things that cause me to feel ecstasy
Summer nights that are filled with torrential rain
Watching a horse run while waving its long mane
A thunderstorm that echoes through the distant land
The piano playing something new and deliciously grand
A magnificent sunset on an open field
The crisp fall air in November that makes my soul yield
Gloomy days that I like to hide inside
An extended car drive with no destination in which to arrive
Colorful leaves dancing in the wind while on a long hilly hike
Open Dirt roads with a newly painted bike
Boat rides that go far out to sea
Fresh waves that crash against me
Mornings after a heavy snow
When no one has touched it and the snow still has its glow
The smell of a person’s clothes that I like or love
When I am having a bad day and I turn and see a white dove.
By: Sabina Nicole
contest: what turns me on

Watching the snow falling outside,
Through the white drifts a lone deer glides.
Under the grove of laden trees, she stops,
Stretches her neck, for leaves to crop.
Someone spooks her and off she goes,
Leaving footprints in the blanket of snow.
A lone chickadee lands on my deck,
From the seeds there, she starts to peck.
If not for God's creatures, some great, some small,
I would not appreciate this winter weather at all.
As inconvenient as this winter snow can be
It still has it's beautiful moments for all to see.
*it's snowing like mad today, so my visitors this afternoon took
some of the annoyance out of it.

Snowflake
I woke this Morning. I gazed out the window and saw the Sun dancing off the trees. The Earth was still asleep. it was covered with sparkles and glitter from the frost and ice. The earth oh so quiet and still.
The Birds felt the warmth of the sun. They stretched and warmed themselves, and awoke the earth with their lovely song. The chill from the air was cold.
However, when the sun touched the Earth it gave it a quiet nudge and the grass that was hiding under the thick frost, began to slowly open again as the Sun warmed it.
Tiny flakes of snow began to blow, they swayed in the cold breeze.
Where have you come from?
Will you land on the branch or cradle yourself to the earth?
The flakes flew high when the cold wind rushed the Earth.
. Have you traveled along way?
Twirl, and spin little snow flake it is your turn, to appear.
The grass will soon close its weary eyes for the winter. and
awake again in the Spring. Soon the Sun will not be as warm and will hide behind the Clouds.
Don’t fret small snow flakes it is your turn.
The Winters Months come, with the cold wind from the North.
We welcome you sweet snowflake. Lonely Snowflake
The Earth needs its Sweet Slumber, to rest up, for the Spring, Soon the Earth will sprout lovely flowers and colors. It is now your turn to, Fly little snowflake soon the wondrous heavens will be covered with White.
Sarahl.bowmn

October’s Pretence.
Rain, nature is greening, but it’s a false spring; December will
pale the land into submission. Do not write poetry till February,
when almond trees blossom and strew petals about in protest
thinking winter takes the season of its sinister drama too far.
Last winter snow fell, a wonder land; people said they had not
seen snow for forty seven years. The stream is xanthous I think
of China’s main river where dolphins, not seen for years, swim
in cloudy water. What can’t be seen cannot be caught by man.
Dawn, on the track a boar, sniffed the air and grunted; a hairy,
pig in need of a pair of glasses. I moved and it disappeared into
the brushwood. On nature walks I used to take a camera, but
wild animals hate having their photo taken and avoided my
intrusive lens I was left with taking photos of trees, weeds and
evergreen bushes. My lazy dreaminess has paid off I have had
a good life no one ever expected anything glorious of me, and
left me in peace. If you look for me I will be on a bus trying to
find the fabulous castle; I once saw when I could see the future.

God whispers to the angels,
who open their aprons toward earth.
A thick curtain of flakes
cover life and death alike.
A swaying screen sweeps away color,
defuses light, disturbed only by a soft wind
slanting the mantle eastward;
pierced by stark sentinels whose branches
stand solid against its breath.
Schools close as kids cheer
and nature dons a turbid cloak.
The sky's roof caresses treetops.
Life stills, cocooned
in winter's satin embrace.
Who but the Creator
could alter our ambience
in one glorious afternoon?

2-13-12 White light up the night
Peeking out side ,late last night,the first falling snow blanketed the distance,
The snow reflected and lit up the sky,as if morning had dawn,
No longer did I feel alone,when I went outside I met the frost,
Even the trees stood still as I walked across the yard,
Each step leaving a crunch and a footprint in the snow that is cold,
I go back inside to where it is cozy and warm.

A Day on the Mountain
The snow is falling around
Bringing the mountain a new shiny crown
The leaves have fallen, it is end of summer
The mountain is in its winter slumber
We realize this is God’s natural way
So we adjust to a different type day
If things changed, and we had summer year
round
We would start complaining and want snow on the ground
He lets the trees and plants rest for a while
Then come spring they will be but to the trail
Sometimes winter can be a trying time
Causing us to just set around and whine
If we look around and see the beauty of it all
The leaves are beautiful with many colors of
fall
It’s another morning, it’s frosty and cold
But the sun is coming out to warm our soul
We’ll stay warm if we really try
Blessed with an abundant wood supply
God gives us strength to do what we must
If we put our efforts and actions in his trust
He says this is the way it is going to be
If we look around us, his blessings we well
see
If we will just trust him, things will be alright
Just throw another cover on the bed tonight
By Buzzie
Oct 2001

There’s snow on the ground outside.
The wind is blowing, so cold.
So beautiful but deadly.
In the dark, things lurk and watch.
In the day they hide,
Asleep but not…
The sun shines on the white ground
As it blinds passerby’s.
Couples huddle along admiring the snow
While dark things hide in the shadows,
Silently laughing at the innocent victims.
At night they come out, staring through the windows
Wishing they could be inside.
The cold outside is too much for humans to bear.
They run inside, unaware of the beasts and animals that wait outside the door.
The winter is a time for dead things.
When trees are asleep and the flowers are hiding.
When false spring creeps up,
It makes the flowers die.
People are stuck in their houses because of too much snow or ice.
Frozen in the ground are things we came to love in summer.
Underneath the snow, there is still grass.
Later when this is over,
It will be exposed and uncovered.
Less freedom, more snow.
If you stay outside too long,
You could freeze and no longer be living.
So deadly, but we still love it.
Why do we sit in front of a fire and then go out to where it’s cold and dead?
Would we rather sit in the snow?
Snow…
Such a strange thing…
Anissa Sapp
1/21/07 2:54 PM

I could wish to see down but I choose to see up.
I step to the well to take a drink from life’s cup.
All I leave behind become the pieces I discard,
Life becomes easier where once it was hard.
The sun filters through some gray clouds in the sky.
Snowflakes drift downward from a place way up high.
They blanket the ground making it fresh and new,
I see only my tracks as I start to walk through.
I gaze upon a bird looking for food on the ground,
I stand and watch quietly, without making a sound.
It takes it's beak and brushes the snow aside,
Below the surface is where the food does hide.
At first the bird finds nothing but simply doesn’t give in.
The snow is like a haystack the bidd looking for a pin.
As the bird keeps digging it finally starts to sing,
The clock on the bell tower begins to ring.
It is almost like the bell says it’s time to eat.
the bird doesn't give up and knows not of defeat.
As I watch this process I think there is this I learn
To get what you need, you seek out what you yearn.
Suddenly a squirrel comes and joins in at the feast.
The bird looks at him funny like some sort of beast.
There seems some commotion and the bird flies away.
It seems that the squirrel sent the bird on its way.
It seems rather simple yet there is a lesson inside.
There still remains food uinder the surface it hides.
It took a little work but it was always buried below,
Dig past the surface and the treasure will show.
I start to feel cold so I turn back for home.
I follow my tracks the same way I shall roam.
I get back inside where it is cozy and warm,
I find some shelter and flee from the storm.

When winter comes
And the first snowflakes fall
Who is the first one in my thoughts?
Who is the first person I call
When winter comes
And there is a fresh fall of snow
Who makes snow angels with you?
Is it that you’re the best angel maker I know?
When winter comes
And there’s fresh snow on the ground
Who builds the snowman with you?
Is it that you make the best snowmen around?
When winter comes
And we spend all of our time together
Have you ever wondered why?
Do you think that I just like the snowy weather?
When winter comes
There is a reason why every winter I call you
It’s the same reason I’ve had since we were seven
I’ve wanted to tell you but have been to scared to
When winter comes
The reason I pull off your wet gloves?
And the reason I gently warm your cold hands?
Is that you’re the one I love

Burr!
It is cold.
The snow covers the ground
in a blanket of
fluffy coldness.
It is icy and i love it.
It makes me shiver .
I need another layer of
clothes.
But I don't dare go inside
to become warm,
because I just might come
back out to find
the snow has gone.

The way is clear and not encumbered.
No shoving with my feet and labored,
breath.
I walk and smell no roses.
I feel my life instead of death.
The sky is blues and sunny.
The clouds are white and far away.
The snow is absent around about me.
I sense the absence of the snow.
It must be what Heaven will be.
No snow or ice or death.
I will kiss you all someday.
When I am there.
Gone away.
To rest.

The beauty of the early dawn,
Make all feel active as sportive fawns;
The dew drops shine in the lawn-
But as the Sun grows its beauty is gone.
The heat of Summer, the chill of Winter-
The rains mekes the river flow faster;
During Autumn the sky is clear;
But the spring's beauty is even nicer.
The freshness of rose,the majesty of mountains-
The shallowness of lakes and the depth of oceans-
And the mute beauty of insane flowery lanes,
Enthall even the greatest men.
The breeze of the quite trees;
Fills us with comfort sweeping our minds free;
The movements of the clouds show us kingly gaits,
Making us realise we are not what makes our fates.
The scene of a snow covered peak,
And the strength of the woods of teak,
The white colour of snow flakes ,
Prettier the world thus it makes.
Oh! Nature's beauty, Nature's power,
To it humans are meek creatures;
Continuously does its blessing's shower;
Let's vow to make it nice , lovely and gayer.

Turtle Island.....
a name that was once used to describe
a land that has no semblence of once was....
as if our earth mother was in need of a make-over
now masquerading superficial fabrication
as a patient under the spell of a surgeons knife
where the salmon were a one time
free to return home only facing natural obstacles
where the thunderous rumble of the plains
announced the mighty bison's return
where those majestic birds of flight
with their snow capped heads
soared high above same snow capped ranges
a night sky that at one time lit up like campfires
now only to be dimmed by belows illumination
sometimes when it rains
I wonder if the ancestors weep in disbelief
sometimes during a thunderstorm
I wonder if they're pounding their chest's
like sacred drums , for hope's sake........
have we foresaken honor and respect
for the love of greed , and the lack of love........

Winter, spring, summer, fall.
Many seasons, love them all!
Winter
white, nippy, chilly.
Spring
tulip, croakas, and tiger-lilly.
Summer
sunscreen, towel, and ocean.
Fall
rakes and leaves in constant motion.
Each season a diffrent time,
together they change, no reason or rhyme.
When summer's over fall comes into play,
the next thing you know, it's a snow day.
Finally the snow starts to melt,
a change in temperature is soon felt.
The spring is nice,no terrible heat.
Soon you'll see, flip-flops on tan feet.

A snow flake drops on an empty forest floor
For a moment the small *thud* echoes
Suddenly two more fall
And that small *thud*
The *thud* that started in echoes ended
And started in a beautiful winter song
And that song echoed through the trees and the forest
Then moments later ending its song in small repeating flurries
Singing, “Fallen snow, fallen snow, fallen snow shall come once more!”
Then finally one snow flake ends that song with a *thud*
A *thud* on an empty forest floor…

We had snow the weekend after Christmas no less
Deep and even it fell what a mess
But not like the snow we had when I was a kid
As the bushes and hedges it buried and hid
Seemed the whole area ground to a halt
The council did not even scatter the salt
But when I was a lad in my village home
The snow was so deep nowhere could we roam
Days off school two, three or four
While the diggers got us out slow but sure
Then the day came when snow blowers arrived
Cut short our days off as on snow they thrived
Mum and Dad cleared out the attic of snow
Blew under the eaves nowhere else to go
You could leave the house as it started to snow
In a couple of hours as the winds did blow
The snow I remember lay deep in the lane
The shovelling and sweeping was only in vain
For it blew from the fields piled up there again
So it was every year it would drive folks insane
We walked in the snow to the village for milk and bread
Made igloos and played in the snow till time for bed
Corn beef hash cooking on the open fire
A couple of bowls full before you retire
Good times with mates snowballing and such
Nothing quite like the snowman to touch
But it soon went away and we all would say
Ali ali asta Snow come faster, please today

the snow is nice and cool
when there is a lot I stay home from school
tubing with my brother,
getting yelled at for it by my mother
making snowmen with my nephew
if I stay out to long I turn blue
the snow glistens in the sun,
Oh isn't winter fun

Even in the wintry world the soul of the coming year bursts through the frost,
Amid drifts of snow the long icicles hung down from eaves, fences and ledges,
Walking by day is bracing and delightful hot chestnuts sold from street corners,
Fires burning in metal bins people warming hands stopping for a few minutes.
As the day darkens,lights shine from house windows silhouette through curtains,
Music from piano's songs and good conversation lift hearts in domestic bliss,
Fairy flakes silently and suddenly delight the towns people a sparrow sings,
Whatever the calendar may say feelings do not cross seasons until the first snow.
In the parks and woods see wild scenes of winter life with driving snow storms,
A sombre landscape noiseless passage of a hawk amid the trees, and cutting wind,
Moaning pines, the cold light of day growing colder as the quick darkness falls,
These and other ghastly things that appertain to natures annual winter has come.

October’s Pretence.
Rain, nature is greening, but it’s a false spring; December will
pale the land into submission. Do not write poetry till February,
when almond trees blossom and strew petals about in protest
thinking winter takes the season of its sinister drama too far.
Last winter snow fell, a wonder land; people said they had not
seen snow for forty seven years. The stream is xanthous I think
of China’s main river where dolphins, not seen for years, swim
in cloudy water. What can’t be seen cannot be caught by man.
Dawn, on the track a boar, sniffed the air and grunted; a hairy,
pig in need of a pair of glasses. I moved and it disappeared into
the brushwood. On nature walks I used to take a camera, but
wild animals hate having their photo taken and avoided my
intrusive lens I was left with taking photos of trees, weeds and
evergreen bushes. My lazy dreaminess has paid off I have had
a good life no one ever expected anything glorious of me, and
left me in peace. If you look for me I will be on a bus trying to
find the fabulous castle; I once saw when I could see the future.

The snow falls outside the window gently to the ground,
Huge white feathery flakes
I listen, but there is no sound
Memories of times past come awake.
As I sit by the warm fire, time passes by
The snow continues to fall.
Concerns of the world are not for my eye
And the importance of the book I am reading becomes quite small.
The cold wind has picked up blowing the snow around.
Red cardinals stand out against the background of white.
Seeking to eat before more snow abounds
But when I open the door, they all take flight.
When the grandeur of nature is so beautiful outside
I still choose to enjoy the warmth of the house inside.
A Sonnet
By Shelly Fine

In the wintry countryside, January bares her soul and lets little buds grow,
Under drifts of pure white snow, hedge high frost hardened, there is movement,
Shoots of brave winter flowers wake, and they in turn wake our summer flowers,
Then the rarest of all our flowers the blow flower stirs hidden away from all.
With frosted snow lay-ed and the skies clear, it reflects a lapis lazuli blue,
The new snow that has fallen on top of icy snow the breeze blows it into spray,
The binding of the snow beneath there is hardness that allows us to walk on it,
Walking on snow is a wonderful feeling looking over hedge tops and deep valleys.
It's good to feel the frozen mass crunching under foot but we sometimes slide,
Only rivers show themselves, their wintery hues amid the trees and grey rocks,
And because it has been a snowy winter stories circulate around warm firesides,
Of travelers lost in great drifts on the wild moorlands and snow laden forests.

white flakes falling from the sky
it is easter and i not sure why
if snow is falling in the spring
i wonder what summer will bring
it lays thin across the ground
so light and soft it makes no sound
it is easter and spring is supposed to be in flow
but not possible if theres snow
white is covering every branch and tree
as far as the eye can see
it tumbles down and down
turning into smiles instead of frowns
children throwing snow balls
to each one and all
footprint left behind
with forgotten memory left to find

Black trails in moonlight
red in the day,
wounded in winter
and wasting away.
dragging your weight
against all odds in squalls
of violent snow storms
you challenge it all.
red snow betrays you
to predators' eyes
in secret they plan for
your early demise.
The hawk and the eagle,
the wolf and the man,
all seek your death
but you must take a stand.
Life is a force and
it will be preserved
this surely isn't the end
you deserved.
Ask the Great Spirit
to take you in hand
to bless you and keep you
from creature and man.
May He lift you up
in an aura of light,
to look down in wonder
at red snow tonight.

The white blanket of snow covers your life,
it hides the world of your yesterdays,
it makes everything look new,
let it fall over you.
a white capped mountain,
a white silvery forest,
your memories of yesterdays on each laden branch,
the forest of your dreams glistening diamonds of white.
the glistening diamonds fall from above,
each one a memory of what you should,
some are dreams of what you could,
the white white blanket of a new way.
the day will come when it melts away,
to turn your life a dullish gray,
but the silvery forest of your memories and dreams,
will carry you through for the next white snow flakes to fall over you

I watched the snow on the
mountain tops turn to liquid gold
as the sun set swiftly
as if fleeing from the cold.
So black was the night that
the peaks just disappeared
and everywhere was stillness
as the wraiths of night appeared.
So cold was the air that
it almost hurt to breathe,
so thin was the air that
my lungs began to wheeze.
Staring at the blackness
I saw a twinkling light
suspended in the air
in the darkness of the night.
Yellow, orange, red in turn,
like the eyes of stalking tigers,
I realized, astonished,
that the light was on the Eiger.
Some fools were on the mountain,
having almost reached the summit!
As I thought of their predicament,
I felt my stomach plummet.
The Eiger isn't pretty
like the other Alpine peaks,
it's stark and sheer and barren
and its summit's rarely reached.
The north face of the Eiger is
so sheer that snow can't cling,
I wondered, as I went to bed,
what would the daylight bring.
Morning crept up slowly
as I pondered what I'd seen,
now the Eiger was in daylight,
I guess it must have been a dream.
No one could survive up there,
or even climb that high,
it must have been an illusion
or some stars up in the sky.
And then I heard a throbbing noise
that echoed through the valley:
a chopper with a rescue crew
to count the Eiger's tally.
Four bodies they brought down that day,
those fools whose flame I'd seen,
and the northern wall was stone-faced
and the Eiger sat serene.

Has thou
stepped in a warm pool
in the midst of a snow storm?
Have ye
felt the damp steam,
sitting heavily,
on the water,
as snowflakes,
sizzle above your head.
Can thou
smell that crisp,
musty scent
of wet moss
clinging to the air,
or hear
the rustlingclatter
of the leafless tree branches
blowing in the wind,
and that ghastly whistle,
as snow swirls
about you within
the warm fog
that encompases you?
That ominious,
echoing call
of an owl,
bouncing off the snowbanks,
through the barren trees,
can send a shiver
deep within you
when it peirces
the hollow silence

Snow is coming,
tonight they say,
a blanket of white,
on the ground will lay.
Children so excited,
making their plans,
cardboard boxes,
sliding on the ground.
Making Snow cream,
and Snow Angels too,
talking, talking,
about what they will do.
Come on snow,
make their wish come true,
many, children,
are counting on you.